


Heaven On Their Minds

by happytappyteen, SorryFreudianSlip



Category: Jesus Christ Superstar - All Media Types, Mr. Robot (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Theatre, Bisexual Male Character, Character(s) of Color, Drugs, Everyone Is Gay, F/F, Gay Male Character, Lesbian Character, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Swearing, Trans Female Character, Trans Male Character, autistic characters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-19
Updated: 2016-12-01
Packaged: 2018-08-31 22:23:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 30,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8596093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/happytappyteen/pseuds/happytappyteen, https://archiveofourown.org/users/SorryFreudianSlip/pseuds/SorryFreudianSlip
Summary: “It’s an ECorp production,” Elliot said with as much disgust as his shaky voice could convey.“Essex Theatre Company is giving Mr. Goddard funding, something we’re all pretty psyched for.”“Don’t tell me you drank their Kool-Aid.”Elliot Alderson, a young theatre prodigy, auditions for Evil Corp's production of Jesus Christ Superstar. It gets gayer from there.





	1. Chapter 1

“Please?”

“Nope.”

“Elliot, I don’t want to be in this show by myself. This is my first supporting lead!” Angela whined. The shoppers in the drama library gave them ugly looks. Whatever.

Elliot stared down at his Anne Bogart book, hoping that maybe Angela would just… go away.

“Elliot.”

No such luck.

“It’s an ECorp production,” Elliot said with as much disgust as his shaky voice could convey.

“Essex Theatre Company is giving Mr. Goddard funding, something we’re all pretty psyched for.”

“Don’t tell me you drank their Kool-Aid.”

“Elliot.” Angela grabbed his book, looking him in the eye. “Stop being a dick. It’s a well funded production, and there’s a non-equity casting call. _C’mon_. You and me on stage again.” She smiled, a little sad. “Just like high school.”

Elliot winced, feeling guilty. He glanced at the audition notice.

“Centerpoint is doing Godspell, and now Essex’s doing -”

“Jesus Christ Superstar. Yep.”

“What’s up with the religious shows?”

“Who knows. Christmas time? Goodwill? Red scare?”

Elliot snorted, ripping the paper from the corkboard. “Maybe I can be the apple.”

Angela hummed. “I’d cast you as the snake.”

*

“Dude.” Darlene tapped the door of his fridge, where the audition notice was haphazardly taped. “ _Dude._ Are you auditioning?”

“Angela wants me to.”

“I’m SMing, man!” Darlene sounded excited. Shit. “Aw, it’ll be just like high school. Remember when I stage managed Chicago? You were a cute Amos.”

“You missed three sound cues making out with Sally Hetchings.”

“Memories.”

“You didn’t even turn my mic on.”

“Oh, it was in character.” Darlene threw a wadded up napkin at him.

Elliot bit his lip. He didn’t remember much of Chicago. Had that been when he discovered morphine, or...?

“Dude? You’re totally spacing again.” Darlene waved a hand in front of his face. “Not to go all NT on you, but you’re freaking me out.”

“I’m good,” Elliot mumbled, staring at his shoes. “Do you think I should go for it?”

“Duh. Plus, I hear White Rose is funding that shit. You know it’s gotta be good.”

“Okay. Will you help me clean up my resumé?”

“Hmm. Nah!” Darlene said cheerfully. “I’m just here to raid your fridge.”

*

Leon supposed he should be listening. He was currently balancing his pen on his water bottle, trying to see how many times he could spin it. He glanced up at an Essex representative.

“...with this production, we’re hoping to model the trend of Broadway’s future, which we reflected in our casting of, of,” the representative fumbled, waving his hands wildly. “Black actors! Of, of color!” He turned excitedly to Leon, the only black person in the room. Leon glared. White Rose coughed.

Yeah. Just bullshit.

The other leads murmured and shifted in their seats. Leon sighed as the pen clattered to the table. White Rose shot him a look. Leon mimed stabbing himself in the eye. Her mouth twitched into a tiny smile, mollifying him slightly.

Wait. Shit. Stuff was happening.

“My name is Angela, I’m going to be Mary Magdalene,” a pretty (for a girl) blonde said. She turned to the man next to her.

“Tyrell Wellick.” He gave a forced smile. Leon thought he looked like a lizard. “I’ll be Mr. Price’s assistant, and will be portraying Pilate.” Leon stifled a groan. Tyrell glanced at him.

“Joanna. Simon.” She didn’t even look up from her script.

“Leon.” He threw up a peace sign. “Judas.”

The pale (like, deathly pale) guy next to him stood up dramatically, smiling at everyone in the room. “And my name is Ollie Parker, twenty-four.” He smiled at the blonde lady, who looked nervous. “I’ll be trying to do justice to the role of Jesus. Thank you.”

Dear Lord. Leon dropped his head against the table. This was gonna be fun.

*

“How old are these headshots?” Angela waved them around. He had a full head of curly hair. Elliot rubbed his mohawk.

“Uh. Sophomore year?”

Angela sighed, throwing them at the trashcan. “I’m guessing that’s the last time you updated your resumé, too.”

Elliot shrugged. “That was freshman year.”

Angela stared at him. “You’re lucky we’re friends. And talented.” Elliot didn’t want to think about that. _You’re wasting your gift, you’re going nowhere…_

“Elliot?”

“Yeah. Yeah, that sounds good.” He smiled in her general direction. Not at her. He knew she looked disappointed.

“Well,” she said with forced cheer, “I was gonna get new ones, anyway. I can’t believe I was even _considered_ for the role, looking at mine. Maybe we can get a package deal if I invite some of the leads.”

“You met them?”

“Yeah!” Angela sat on the couch, handing Elliot a mug of throat coat. She took a little blue notebook from her bag. Yep. Just like high school. “Tell me if you recognize any of the names! I’ll email them, see if they wanna join us for headshots.”

She smiled at him, nodding. “This is gonna be good. Okay?”

“Yeah.” He took a sip, looking into his mug. “Okay.”

*

“Any word?” Elliot asked, squinting at his resumé. He wasn’t very good with computers.

Angela flopped down on the couch. “Jesus says sure, Judas will check if he’s free, and Mister Tyrell Wellick,” she switched to a snooty accent, “says he has already had his bi-monthly headshots taken, and would be happy to refer us to his personal photographer, though she’s a bit on the pricey side.”

Elliot laughed, a little creaky and uncertain. He hadn’t done that in a while. “Wow.”

“Yeah. But Judas seems cool.”

“Mm. How about Jesus?”

“Ugh.” Angela rubbed a hand over her face. “I think he’s into me.”

“Ew.”

“Yep. At least it’ll make the chemistry onstage real. Or something. The director didn’t even show up to the meeting.”

“Who?”

“Phillip Price.”

“Is that the guy who set Mackers in dystopian South Ireland?”

“Yep. And did Cabaret. In _Russia."_

Elliot made a noise in the back of his throat.

“Yeah. I think he was going for a… I dunno, trying to make it a diverse cast? But the most diversity is a Swedish guy and a black guy.”

“Tell me he’s Jesus.”

“Nope.”

“Oh, God.” Elliot banged his head against the keyboard, making Angela laugh. He smiled to himself, a pitiful little thing.

He really did miss this.

*

“Stop fidgeting. You look cute.”

“The shirt is itchy.” Elliot fiddled with the collar. “I hate headshots.”

“Oh, Elliot, this is -”

“Ollie Parker.” He gave Elliot a firm handshake, smiling at him with direct eye contact. “Hi.”

“Okay.” Elliot ducked his head and shouldered past him. He heard Angela sigh from behind him. “Sorry.”

The photographer's house was just that. A house. Who the hell could afford a fucking house in New York City?

“Is this Tyrell’s photographer?”

“Oh. Oh! Nah, turn here.”

The photographer’s place was by a dumpling shop whose sign was falling down. Nice. Elliot immediately felt a bit more at home.

“Darlene’s Photos. She’s sweet.” Angela smiled up at one of the windows, waving. “Weren’t you looking at apartments here?”

“Uh-huh.”

“What happened?”

Elliot shrugged, chewing at his hoodie sleeve. “I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“Alright.”

“Is he high?” Ollie whispered, far too loud.

“No,” Angela whispered, just as loudly. “He’s… on the spectrum.”

“Oh,” Ollie said nodding with the same air as one comforting a parent. “That must be rough. You’re so strong.”

Elliot hoped he passed that laughing fit off as a cough. Angela just shook her head, jaw dropped.

Okay, then.

*

Elliot sat in the dumpling restaurant’s waiting room, ignoring the glares from the owners. Every so often he’d hear the click of a camera, and an excited voice telling Angela and Ollie to ‘tilt their head just this way’.

Headshots sucked.

“Yo, man. Getting a table?”

Elliot didn’t look up, shaking his head.

“Oh. Dope. Headshots?”

The man settled into a chair next to him, stretching his shoulders out so they were nearly touching. Elliot folded in on himself. He nodded.

“You’re Mary’s friend? She said we had to be nice.” He had a little laugh in his voice. It sounded nice. Elliot risked a glance in his direction.

 _Man. He’s handsome_.

And then -

“How _old_ are you?”

“Twenty-eight.”

“And you have your equity card?”

He waved his hand, looking far too chill for 7:45 in the morning. “It’s cool, man. I’m Leon.” He held out his hand. Elliot stared at it.

“Elliot.”

“Alright. Elliot.” Leon smiled. “Cool.”

*

After headshots (hell) Ollie wouldn’t take no for an answer, and demanded he take Angela out for coffee.

“Coffee sounds great,” Leon agreed, staring at him.

“Yeah.” Elliot found himself liking Leon’s profile. “Great.”

Leon turned his head, catching Elliot looking. Shit. Elliot felt himself blush, all the way to the tips of his ears. Leon smiled, raising an eyebrow at him.

Fuck.

*

The coffee shop was, contrary to all the other ones he'd seen, quiet. There was room for conversation, and Elliot actually felt like joining in.

“So,” Leon ventured. “You’re auditioning tomorrow?”

“Ah, the cattle call of non-equity,” Ollie said, just as Elliot was about to speak. “I don’t miss that.”

“Just as good. I’ve seen kids with cards who couldn’t act their way out of a paper bag,” Leon said, not sparing Ollie a glance. “You were saying?”

“Uh, yeah. 5:30, sharp. Just. Going for ensemble, you know?” Elliot shrugged, looking at the pastry Leon made him eat the other half of. “Maybe understudy work, if I’m feeling ambitious.” He felt uncomfortable, the way Leon was staring at him. Did he say something wrong?

Distraction time. “Uh, Ollie. What was on Twitter?”

“Oh.” Ollie puffed up. “My name is everywhere for Jesus. It’s very humbling, of course -”

“Cast a white guy as Jesus while Hamilton is across the way at the Rodgers? Yeah, that’ll cause talk.”

Ollie spluttered. Leon laughed, deep from his belly, fingers flapping like butterfly wings. Butterfly wings? God, he was already in deep. “What understudy shit you going for, El?”

“Simon. Maybe Jesus. I probably won’t make it though, I’m just -”

Leon rolled his eyes, chuckling warmly as he studied Elliot’s face. “Like I said, no one is just anything, we all important.” He nodded approvingly. “You certainly look the part, cuz -” Leon stopped abruptly, cheeks burning. Ollie laughed, not noticing Leon’s stare. Elliot had a sharp jawline and big, deep eyes. The face of a king. He swallowed. “I'm, uh, excited to work with you.”

Elliot let his lips curl up into a smile.

“Me too.”

*

“You’re gonna be great,” Angela said, smiling sweetly. Darlene had come by with Elliot’s headshots and a fish. It was all kind of a blur, actually. “Go kill it.”

Elliot shuffled his papers, waiting for the poor, overworked stage hand to grab him.

The auditions were fifty-five minutes behind schedule.

“Just remember to make eye contact, Gideon’s big on that.” Elliot nodded absentmindedly, getting up to greet the stage hand.

Auditions weren’t that bad. It was a lot of jitters, nerves, and then -

*

Elliot blinked. He looked down at his hands. Resumé gone, sheet music remaining.

He must have auditioned.

“How’d it go?” Angela asked, looking anxious.

“Good. I think.”

*

Now came the awful part. Waiting.

Elliot refreshed ALL-TWAS’s Facebook page while holding his phone against his ear with his shoulder.

“Dude, I’ll tell you when the cast list is up. I’m on _tech_ , not the fucking board of directors.”

“You haven’t heard -”

“Nope.”

“And Cisco hasn’t -”

“Nuh-uh.”

Silence.

“Are you sure?”

 _"Elliot,”_ Darlene groaned. “I’m gonna hang up. Eat something.”

“Darlene -”

“Bye.”

*

When Elliot was in Chicago - well. There’s the problem. He doesn’t remember Chicago at all.

Elliot couldn’t really explain it. Sometimes onstage or during auditions, someone else would just...take over. Like he was living someone else, for a bit. Sometimes he remembered it, sometimes he didn’t. Sometimes it was like he was watching from the wings, peeking through the scaffolding of the set as his dad performed a monologue.

Yeah. Mr. Alderson had brought the house down, in his day. Elliot used to sit on the catwalk during rehearsals, watching his dad work. He’d look up and give his son a tiny smile, like he was showing him a secret. Elliot wrote it all down, wanting to remember everything.

Elliot just wished he could remember _this_ audition.

He had run out his phone battery checking it, so it was charging now. He had a stim toy in his mouth and one in his hand, twirling it over and over his fingers.

Did he blow it? Start a measure early, start a measure late? No, he would have been pulled back to consciousness, right? Would’ve been given a chance?

Shit.

His phone glowed, coming back to life. One missed call, two texts. An unknown number, and Darlene.

 _Call him back,_ it said. Then, as an afterthought: _Good job, kid._


	2. Chapter 2

“Gideon Goddard. Hi.” Gideon shook his hand, smiling at him. Elliot stared at his cufflinks. “I’m the casting director for this big ol’ thing. My husband, your accompanist in the audition, will be music directing. He was very impressed with your timbre, by the way. Said it was ‘unnerving.’ Take that as a compliment.”

Gideon laughed, which probably meant Elliot was supposed to. He shrugged.

Gideon wasn’t what he expected. Well. Okay, he had expected someone kind, like Angela said. He hadn’t expected Gideon to make an appointment at a coffee shop and buy him an iced mocha. Do real people do that? Do real people drink this?

“Your audition was, well.” Gideon laughed incredulously, throwing his hands up. “It was risky, to be sure, and, yes, unnerving. But you certainly caught our attention, and it paid off. I’m sorry I can’t offer you a job in ensemble, but I would love to offer you an understudy position.” Gideon looked at him, an obvious cue to speak. Elliot blinked.

“Uh.” He cleared his throat. “Can I do that?”

“Yeah.” Gideon smiled, taking a sip of his coffee. “Great. I’ll tell Phillip. He was the uh, the one who cut you off. Scary guy.”

“Yeah.” Elliot smiled, or he thought he did. Maybe. “Hard to forget a guy like that.”

*

Gideon sent him his schedule, met him at the door, assured him he was in the right place, and yet Elliot still felt like he was intruding as he followed him into the music room. They were just doing a reading, a bit of a stumble through of the music, Gideon had explained. Just the leads. And Elliot.

Leon smiled at him as he walked in the door, grabbing his hand in one of his weird handshakes. Clasp, shake… side-hug? Leon laughed. “Good to see you, cuz. We’re a bit early.”

Ollie was not making eye contact. That was nice.

“Angela’s getting coffee. You met Tyler - uh, Tyrell? Pilate? Nah? Don’t worry about it,” Leon said, waving a hand. “You know what they say about white boys.”

“No.” Elliot stared at him. Leon just smiled.

“You met one, you met ‘em all. Anyway,” he said, as Ollie’s mouth fell open in outrage. “Wanna sit by me?”

“He’s gonna sit by Ollie, for today. Just to, you know,” Gideon made some weird hand motions, like he was churning butter or imitating waves. “Get him in the flow.”

“Okay.”

Elliot sat beside Ollie in a seat he was obviously saving for Angela. Elliot could feel Ollie glaring at him, and his phone was out of battery, so he looked at Leon. Leon was nice to look at.

“Sorry I’m late,” Angela said, rushing in with a binder and a cup of coffee.

“Right on time, Angela,” Gideon said with a pleased smile. “And - ah, the Wellicks. Have you met Elliot?”

An absolutely stunning couple walked in, both chattering in some language Elliot didn’t know heads or tails of. They stopped when they saw Elliot. He stood, awkwardly, wondering if he should shake their hands or something.

“Joanna. I’ll be Simon.” She had a dazzling smile, and terrifying eyes. “Pleasure to meet you.”

“Tyrell Wellick. Pilate.” He shook Elliot’s hand a little longer than necessary, standing a bit too close. Elliot turned away, but Tyrell had him boxed in.

“Elliot Alderson. Just - just an understudy.”

“No,” Tyrell said, smiling. “I’ve been there. Right where you are, actually. I’m sure you’re much more interesting than you let on.” Tyrell’s eyes shut and he leaned in, inhaling -

Was he _smelling_ him?

“Yo, Elliot!” Leon said, clattering something against the table. Elliot jumped, ducking from under Tyrell’s arm.

“Yes?”

“You wanna water?”

“Nah.”

“S’good for you.”

“I’m good.”

“I’m gonna grab you one.”

“Okay.”

“You wanna come with? Yeah, come with.”

Behind him, Tyrell cleared his throat. “Good to meet you. Bonsoir, Elliot.” He smiled again, looking decidedly reptilian.

“You too, Tyler.”

Leon pulled him away, barely containing his laughter.

“What?”

“It’s actually Tyrell.”

“Oh.”

*

After Leon bought Elliot a blue Gatorade (after getting a strange lecture on electrolytes) they gathered in the room for the reading to _actually_ start. Director Price was fifteen minutes late.

“Sorry, sorry.” He ambled in, ending a phone call and laying his jacket on a chair. “Traffic. Those, what are they, the lottery show for those Hamilton folks. All these cars on 46th. Anyway.” He sat at the head of the table, leaning back in his chair. “Angela, Joanna, looking lovely as always. Mr. Alderson, good of you to join us.” He nodded to Elliot with a tight smile. “Made, eh, quite the impression.”

“Okay,” Elliot said hoarsely. That was something you said, right? Right. Gideon and Angela laughed politely. Bless them.

“Eh, well.” Phillip cocked his head, spreading his hands. “Let’s begin at the top. Scene 3, enter -”

“I don’t have my script,” Ollie said, raising his hand.

Elliot’s heart stopped. Angela gaped at him. Tyrell’s smile froze on his face. Joanna looked fine, actually. Leon did too.

“I have - I have mine,” Elliot said. No one looked at him. He tried again. “Jesus is highlighted. And the, the sticky notes mark it.” Angela turned to him, nodding. “Where he comes in. Yeah.” Elliot passed Ollie his binder. He didn’t end up having to sit next to him at all. Leon somehow shepherded him over to his side of the table. Anyways.

Ollie smiled, oblivious to the utter silence in the room. Phillip coughed, the first to recover.

“As I was saying, Scene 3…”

*

“Alright, we’ll take a lunch break. Be back in, oh, let’s say twenty-five minutes.”

Elliot had learned a number of things during this reading. The first being that there were way more leads than actors. Mr. Price had waved that aside, citing his high standards. He ended up reading for Caiaphas. The second was that Mr. Price really wanted to be in this show. The third was that Ollie was a pretty good singer. The fourth was that Ollie was a terrible actor.

“Elliot, wanna grab lunch?” Angela said, desperation in her eyes. Ollie cleared his throat, a hand placed dramatically on his larynx.

“I know a great Greek place around the corner.” He smiled at her. “They have IPAs and -”

“Sure. Let’s get McDonald’s.”

“Good on you, Elliot! Embrace capitalism.” Angela smiled. Ollie sniffed with distaste. “Leon, wanna come?”

“Nah, I’m meeting up with White Rose. Actually, Elliot.” Leon turned to him. “If you’re free, she’d really like to meet you.”

Elliot vaguely remembered that name. Was she important? Leon looked very hopeful, making Elliot’s heart melt a little.

“Can Angela come?”

*

A car picked the three of them up (thank God, no Ollie) and took them to a restaurant that the driver missed twice. It was unassuming and probably very expensive. Elliot tried to make himself as small as possible. Pretty easy, honestly.

“C’mon, Eli.” Leon opened the door for him and Angela.

“Such a gentleman,” Angela teased, flicking her hair over her shoulder.

“I try.”

“Did you call me Eli?” Elliot asked.

“Yeah. Would you prefer something else?”

“What did you have in mind?”

“I dunno.” Leon closed the door behind him before leaning in close. “Cutie?”

Elliot flushed. “Okay, uh, Luigi.”

Leon looked absolutely delighted at his shitty joke.

“Elliot it is.”

*

A waitress led them through the restaurant all the way to the back, down into a private room behind a wall.

“Spooky,” Angela said. The joke fell a bit flat to Elliot’s ears. Who was this, again?

“We’re kinda late,” Leon mumbled out of the side of his mouth. “Just look cute. Not a problem for y’all. Hey.”

A beautiful woman sat at the table, flanked on either side by men in suits. She was checking her lipstick in a gold compact mirror. She smiled at her reflection.

“Three minutes early, Leon. As always.”

Leon shrugged. “Lemme introduce you to Angela Moss and Elliot Alderson. Angela, Elliot, this is White Rose.”

She snapped her compact closed. “Charmed. Sit, please. You’re looming.”

They sat. Elliot moved to take off his hoodie, but thought better of it.

“I’ll be producing the show, as well as artistic directing. Some things you should know. If you’re early, you’re on time. If you’re on time, you’re late. If you’re late, you’re cut. Is that clear?”

Angela and Elliot nodded, afraid to speak. “Good. Ms. Moss, I’ve heard good things. Mr. Alderson, I’ve watched your audition tape.”

Shit, that thing was taped?

“If it were up to me, you’d be the one with an understudy. I hope neither of you are a disappointment.”

Silence.

Leon nodded for them. White Rose glanced in his direction. “Tell me, how has dear Phillip managed to destroy the production at the first reading?”

“Well,” Leon drawled. “He was fifteen minutes late.”

“Of course he was. Has he decided on a Caiaphas, John, Anas?”

“Nope.”

“Of course he hasn’t.”

“Does he get cut?”

White Rose seemed to consider it, nodding to herself. “Mm. No. Not right now. Ms. Moss, my vision for the show does not include you as a love interest. I fear that’d be far too droll.”

Angela tried to speak, but barely whispered. She cleared her throat. “I find that agreeable.”

White Rose quirked her lips, as though she were an amusing pet. Angela stiffened, sitting up straighter.

“May I ask a question?”

“Quickly.”

“If you disapprove of… of things being droll, can I ask about the casting of Jesus?”

Leon’s head snapped in her direction, his jaw hanging open. Elliot wasn’t too surprised. Angela was always the brave one.

White Rose smiled. “Phillip’s casting decisions are, as always, not to my taste.” Her tone of voice suggested that was an understatement. “I cannot promise any changes but, eh, Mr. Alderson?”

Elliot couldn’t find his voice, so he just nodded.

“I suggest you get off-book.”

Her watch beeped. She sighed, and one of the men held out his hand. She took it, rising gracefully from her seat. “Order what you’d like, you’re dining on my name. Leon?”

“Yeah?”

“Good work, today.”

He rose from his seat, seeing her to the door. “Thank you.”

She left, a perfectly silent exit. Elliot sighed, collapsing into his chair. Angela stared after her. “She’s always like that?”

“Yep.”

“Man,” Angela said in a faraway voice. “I’d kill to be like that.”

*

Elliot tried to order the cheapest thing on the menu, but Leon said that’d embarrass her. They ended up spending about six hundred dollars on lunch and dessert.

“Shit, what time is it?”

Leon checked his watch. Same model as White Rose’s, now that Elliot noticed. “Mm. We should probably clear out. Old P-dude is always late, so we’re fine. I’ll tell Xun to bring the car around.”

He started tapping away at his phone. Angela caught Elliot’s eye. _Wow,_ she mouthed. Elliot nodded. Wow.

*

“Thanks for grabbing my script.”

Ollie had tried to take it home. Angela had marched up to him, holding out her hand. He tried to flirt with her, but she was absolutely silent. She eventually began snapping her fingers until he caught on.

“No problem. I just decided to be Darlene.”

Elliot smiled, a little bit. “Remember that time she broke into the theatre to get my jacket?”

“Yep. Remember that time she punched my sophomore boyfriend in the face?”

“Yep.”

They both laughed.

“I’m glad you’re doing this show.” Angela turned to him. “I’m glad...I’m glad we’re working together, again.”

Elliot nodded.

“Elliot, where _were_ you?”

Elliot shook his head. Angela nodded to herself.

“Were you okay?”

Elliot shrugged, then shook his head. She deserved an honest answer.

“Are you okay now?”

He shrugged. He felt tears welling up behind his eyes. Angela looked away, letting him gather himself back up again. What was left of him, anyway.

“What can I do for you?”

“Got any weed?”

Angela laughed. “And some old bootlegs. A Chorus Line or Rent?”

“Spring Awakening.”

“Alright.” She punched his shoulder. “Weirdo.”

*

They ended up watching a bootleg of Waitress, instead. There were three technical issues. Darlene showed up right at the start of the second act, demanding a joint and pointing out how she would have fixed the mic problems.

“Amateurs.”

“This is a Broadway bootleg, Darlene.”

“Embarrassing.”

She passed Angela the joint. Elliot was fighting to keep his eyes open.

“I totally channeled you, today.”

“Yeah?”

“Jesus was making off with Elliot’s script.”

“That guy’s a douche. You kicked his ass?”

“I snapped at him. All Fosse-like.”

“Good for you.” Darlene leaned her head on Angela’s shoulder. “Listen, before I die, I gotta direct a Fosse show.”

Angela hummed. “I feel like your flair would be more suited to Kander and Ebb.”

“What? Explain.”

Elliot smiled, lulled to sleep by their bickering.

This was alright.

*

“What?" Darlene shrieked.

Elliot jolted awake. “Uh?”

Darlene held up one finger, seething. “Cisco, if you’re shitting me I’ll - so _soon?"_

Elliot looked at Angela who shrugged. _Someone quit,_ she mouthed.

Oh.

“Cisco, talk to White Rose. Maybe she can pull this bullshit together. Nope. No. Don’t call me unless you have some good news, or the theatre’s on fire.” Darlene hung up and threw her phone against the wall. It had a reinforced case. She usually dropped it off the catwalk or. Y’know. Threw it at bratty actors.

“Fuck.” She put her hands on her hips, staring at the floor. “Shit.” Elliot and Angela watched her walk over to the window, then right back. “ _Fuck_."

“You already said that,” Elliot observed.

“The only reason there isn’t a phone up your ass is that’s currently embedded in the wall,” Darlene hissed. “We lost two.”

“Actors?”

“Worse. The creative team.”

“Oh God,” Angela said.

“Little bit of an understatement. As of fifteen minutes ago, we are without a choreographer, and without a costume designer.”

“Wasn’t Phillip -?”

“Yeah. Choreographer called him a, quote, uptight black hole of creativity and passion and stormed out.”

“Oh boy. Their contracts?”

Darlene shrugged, a terrifying smile on her face. “Who knows! Who cares!” She sighed. “I’ll call in a friend who owes me one, plug as many holes in this shit show as I can. Fuck.”

She stormed out, slamming the door behind her.

Elliot waited.

She stormed back in, grabbed her phone, and slammed the door again.

There we go.

*

“Hey Angela. Cutie.”

Elliot flushed.

“Hey Leon.” Angela beamed, having already consumed three cups of coffee. “Can we go in? I’m excited to see the space.”

“Well…” Something in the theatre crashed. “Might not be a good idea right now. White Rose, Phillip, and his weird little assistant are having a meeting.”

Elliot pressed his ear to the door. “Yeah, they don’t scream much. Just throw shit.” Leon sighed.

“Does this have anything to do with those two people that quit?” Angela asked.

“Yeah, but we’re keeping that on the down low,” Leon said absentmindedly. He did a double take. “Wait, how’d you know about that?”

“Uh. Grapevine?”

“Pick-a-little, talk-a-little. Well, you keep quiet about it. White Rose is _pissed_.”

The theatre door opened. Elliot jumped back, trying to look innocuous. It was one of White Rose’s assistants, holding the door open for her. She had a sneer on her face. “Leon?”

“Yes?”

“I’m going to kill him.”

“Please don’t.”

Elliot couldn’t tell if they were joking or not.

“Thomas and Sergio. Gone!” She snapped her fingers.

“Wait, Sergio -?”

“Brokaw. He would have been _wonderful._ But dear old Phillip fucked that one up.” She pressed a hand to her forehead. “Forgive me.”

“You’re good,” Leon said. “I’m gonna run damage control.” He ducked into the theatre. White Rose dug a cigarette out of her bag. Elliot had a shitty zippo lighter, but he figured the gesture might be appreciated.

“Thank you,” she said, puffing on her cigarette. She leaned against the wall, appraising him. “Alderson, hm? Any relation to Edward?”

Elliot froze. The silence stretched a bit too long.

“His father,” Angela supplied, shooting Elliot a worried glance. White Rose nodded to herself.

“And I suppose the ASM is your sister. Quaint. You and her have that little theatre on Coney Island, yes? F… F Something?”

“Society,” Elliot rasped. He felt sick. Angela stepped in front of him, covering him.

“Society. Yes.” She waved her hand, cigarette smoke framing her face. “I like your pictures. Ask Darlene if she’d bring in your choreographer. I might like to meet them.”

“The costumer’s pretty incredible, too,” Angela supplied. White Rose’s expression turned unreadable. “He’s a bass.”

She laughed, a short, harsh thing. “I will resolutely refuse to take that as an insult to my artistic direction, and instead interpret that as a gesture of goodwill. Yes?” She looked down at her watch. “Have fun, children. If you would, make Phillip’s life a bit harder today. For me.”

Angela smiled. “Sure thing.”

*

Elliot hadn’t wanted their father’s theatre. That’s what had driven him and Darlene apart in the first place. Whenever Elliot stepped inside the modest black box, all he felt were memories. Stifling memories.

Darlene loved it. At some point, when Elliot wasn’t looking, she had assembled a little team of artists who wanted to challenge classism and racism in the arts.

So. Fsociety. To be honest, he’d never even met them.

“Elliot, Romero. Romero, Elliot.” She looked between the two of them. “You’ve met?”

Romero coughed. “Yeah. In jail. Didn’t know the two of you were related.”

Elliot stared at his feet.

“Okay, weirdos. Elliot, this is Trenton.”

She smiled shyly at him. “She’s our choreographer. She’s dope.” Trenton blushed. Darlene smirked, blowing her a kiss.

“Ladies, ladies, please. Decorum.” Romero held up his hands. “To be young again. I’m a costumer. I cover your ass onstage, so be nice to me.”

“Along with growing marijuana?”

“Little of both. What is this, Superstar?”

“Yep.”

“Heh. Everyone does it the same. If she wants Jesus in a white robe, I’ll hang myself with it.”

“Nah, White Rose is a bit…” Darlene shrugged. “She’s pretty cool. You know Theatre in the Dark? That’s her.”

Romero grumbled. “I hope she likes leather. I’m thinking leather.”


	3. Chapter 3

They were about two weeks into rehearsal. Elliot (to his surprise) had done more work than Ollie in that time. Ollie would complain that his larynx felt thick that day, or that he was on vocal rest. Elliot would step in, or otherwise sit behind White Rose in the theatre space. That wasn’t too bad, actually. Every time Ollie would make a… choice onstage, she’d correct it and turn to him, rolling her eyes. 

Elliot liked it. It felt like he was in on the joke. 

Gideon’s husband was nice. He greeted him with a smile every day, asking if he would be comfortable joining the others for warm-ups.

“Voice like yours? Well, it, eh… it sticks out. I’m surprised you’re a shy little thing.” 

He had begun (to White Rose’s amusement) passive aggressively correcting Ollie by encouraging Elliot to sing. That wasn’t so fun. Elliot would always get scared, in fact -

“No, Ollie.” 

Shit.

“The line is -” Mr. Goddard played the melody, fast and loud. “Like that. Try again. Two, three…”

“Sorry, sorry.” Ollie said, over the accompaniment. He held up a finger, waiting for Mr. Goddard to stop. White Rose looked like she was about to throw something. “I’m just not feeling it.”

“Not understanding it?”

“No. my voice is just - ugh.” He took a pointed sip of tea. 

“Alright. Elliot, if you’d sing with Leon while Ollie rests.”

The room turned back to face him. Leon smiled from where he stood at the piano. Elliot stood and walked over, his shoulders bunched up by his ears. Ollie had his binder. 

“You need it?” Ollie said, making no move to grab it.

“N-no. Thank you. I’m memorized.” He looked back at White Rose, uncertain. 

She smiled, waving him forward. 

“Alright, pickup to measure 12. Two, three!”

*

After two hours of Elliot and Leon screaming at each other (which was seriously more fun than Elliot anticipated) they moved on to choreography.

Trenton. Right. White Rose  _ loved _ her.

“Hello, I’ll be here instead of Sergio.”

“Choreographing?” Ollie asked. Trenton looked taken aback. 

“Uh. Yeah.”

“I just thought. Well.” Ollie looked very uncomfortable. “Are you allowed to dance in that? Not to be. Y’know. Offensive, or whatever.” He laughed, looking at Angela for support. Angela gave him a scathing look. 

“Right,” Trenton said, with a sweet smile. “I was going to pick up on ‘What’s The Buzz’, but I’ve been informed our little star here is under the weather. Miss Rose, what would you like me to work on?”

“Oh, I don’t know.” She sighed. “It really all depends on poor Jesus. Do you think you can pull through?” 

“I’ll do my best,” Ollie said, completely missing the point. Leon snorted, elbowing Elliot in the side. Elliot flinched.

“Sorry, sorry! Shit, sorry, babe.”

“S’okay,” Elliot said, hiding his face in his hoodie. Everyone was staring at them now. Oh God. They were all looking at him, weren’t they? They all thought he was a fucking -

“Elliot? Hun, sit down. Breathe.” Leon’s voice sounded far away. Elliot shook his head. 

“Is he alright?” Ollie said. 

“Leon, take him in the hall, it’s quiet. Angela, Ollie, run ‘Everything’s Alright’,” White Rose said, loud and commanding. Elliot focused on that. “Elliot? Come with me.” 

Leon ushered him into the hall. 

“I’m sorry, sorry.” He was gonna cry at rehearsal. “Oh God, this is like high school.”

White Rose laughed, and Leon cracked a smile. “Sit, babe. There you go.” 

He slid down against the wall, Leon squatting beside him. 

“Take a moment. Leon, don’t come back in until he’s okay. Got it?”

“Duh.”

“Good.” 

Her heels echoed as she strode back into the theatre. It sounded nice. 

“What have you eaten today?”

“Uh.” Elliot sniffed. “Angela and I got fries for breakfast.”

“You eat lunch?”

“No.”

“Okay. What have you drunk today?”

“Nothing.”

Leon sighed. “Babe. You’re probably dehydrated.”

“No, it’s - no. I never eat, it’s not that.”

“Babe." _ _

“Really. It’s, uh, it’s just a meltdown. Sorry.” Elliot pulled his knees to his chest. 

“Can I touch you, Elliot?”

“My arms,” Elliot said, muffled. “Maybe.”

Leon traced his fingers down Elliot’s forearm before grabbing his hand. It was like how Elliot used to hold the plates at home. Mom would make him clean up the shards when he dropped it. He hadn’t been allowed to use a broom, so -

Elliot burst into tears. 

Leon squeezed his hand. “I’m sorry, babe. You’re okay.” 

They sat like that for a while, silent but for Elliot’s shuddering breaths, like the aftermath of a storm, and the faintest sound of Leon’s thumb stroking softly over the back of his hand.

“I have meltdowns, too, you know,” he murmured.

“Really?”

“M-hm. Unofficially diagnosed with Asperger’s when I was five, but from what I understand, we’re on the same spectrum nowadays.” Leon smiled, his ebony eyes on their entwined fingers. “Mama noticed I talked a little more, liked karate and Seinfeld a little too much. I had a really bad meltdown when I was, like, ten, cuz… almost broke her nose, I was throwing shit so hard.” He shook his head slowly, thoughtfully. “She’s cool, though. We’re all different in some way. I have two sisters and one brother and one agender sibling. One of ‘em’s deaf, one’s epileptic, one’s got cerebral palsy, one’s blind and ADHD, and me. The autistic.”

Elliot nodded. What was he supposed to say? “Okay.”

“I see you, cuz. You don’t gotta talk right now if you don’t want to.” He laughed. “I think I talk enough for the both of us.”

Elliot nodded again, knitting his brows in concentration. Leon realized he was moving his fingers, but it wasn’t stimming, it was signing.  _ T-H-A-N-K U. _

Leon beamed. “No problem, Elliot. I’m here for you, always.” He held out a hand. “Ready to go back in?”

He nodded. Then:  _ Y-E-S  _

Elliot got shakily to his feet, his fingers cold against Leon’s, and Leon tried not to think about how badly he wanted to kiss warmth and life into him, brushing his lips across his hair. God, he wanted it.

They re-entered the dark theatre, still hand in hand. Elliot didn’t shake him off.

*

“Stop, stop. You two aren’t…” White Rose intertwined her fingers.

“Harmonizing?”

“Harmonizing. Thank you. Ollie, you can’t just stare at her. Angela, look a little less disgusted.”

“Sorry.”

Leon snickered, glancing at Elliot. Much better.

“Leon, get up behind them. It might be easier if we have your presence onstage. Remember. You’re better than them. Go.”

The music ran. Angela’s mezzo voice floated through the room, Ollie very pointedly not looking at her. 

“No, Ollie. She’s comforting you. Don’t stare at her, but don’t - no, not that either. Leon, what are you doing?”

The music stopped.

“I’m looming.”

A laugh grumbled in Elliot’s chest. Tyrell looked at him, frightened. He rubbed the back of his neck.

“Well, stop it. Elliot? Are you alright to try?”

“Uh.”

“Blocking is simple, just sitting. The turntables will handle the rest.” 

Elliot and Ollie stood, switching sides. Elliot sat, leaning against Angela’s shoulder. She ran her fingers through his hair, just like when they were kids.

“Perfect. Leon, how about we try -? Yes, exactly.”

Leon turned on a diagonal, a jealous lover.

“Alright. Music! Go.”

*

Elliot was watching Tyrell and Phillip sing when he got a tap on the shoulder. He flinched, whipping around.

“Oh. I forgot about your, uh. No touching thing.” Ollie said, with a forced smile. “Measurements.” 

“Uh-huh.” Elliot locked eyes with Leon before following Ollie into the hallway. He hoped Ollie wouldn’t try to -

“So, Elliot.”

Shit.

“I feel like we should get along better. Because, you know, I’m Jesus, and you’re Jesus. So. I just wanted to know if you’d, y’know, try harder.”

Elliot gave him a blank look. “Try harder?”

“Yeah! Because, like, this is my role, y’know? And I really wanna have a good time with it and I want Angela to be comfortable with it. I just don’t want things to be awkward between us.”

“I’m okay with things being awkward between us.” Elliot kept walking. Ollie sighed. 

“Elliot, I don’t mean for this to come out bad. But you’re  _ my _ understudy. So I’d just really appreciate if you’d, y’know.” Ollie smiled. “Back off. You know?”

“Uh-huh.” Elliot nodded at his shoes, stopping in front of the costume office. “I’ll do that.” He held the door open for Ollie. 

“Nah, I already got mine. Well, they’re on my resumè.” Ollie huffed. “They just wanted me to make sure you didn’t get lost. You’re welcome.”

He was gone, leaving Elliot hanging on the door handle.

Okay.

*

The costume office was warm and crowded, filled with sketches and photos taped to the wall. 

“You can do this on computers, these days,” White Rose remarked, flicking ash onto the table. Romero grunted, flipping through pages on a yellow legal pad. She turned to the door. “Hello, Elliot.”

“Romero’s on board?”

“Yes.” She seemed taken aback. “You know him?”

“Jail. Great way to make connections.”

Romero called from behind the costume rack. 

“Ever the enigma, Mr. Alderson. How is it you have a connection to everyone in this godforsaken production?”

Elliot shrugged. 

“Huh. Well. How do you like working with Mr. Price?”

“Um. I haven’t, yet. He’s, uh, singing Caiaphas with Tyrell.”

“ _ What _ ?”

“Said he’d stand in.” Elliot shrugged. White Rose sneered.

“That little weasel. I’m going to go fix this. Romero, jacket.”

“Yes, Ms. Hannigan.”

“And don’t call me that.”

“We love you Ms. Hannigan.”

She gave him a dry smirk, which Elliot had learned was her way of showing amusement. “Back in a few.”

“Elliot Alderson. How are you, kid? Clean?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Good boy.” He came out from around the costume rack, a measuring tape around his shoulders. “Well, let’s get this done.”

“Were you flirting with her?” Elliot blurted. Romero laughed, dry and aching from years of smoking. 

“Arms straight out.” He stretched the tape from fingertip to fingertip.  “Where the hell is White Jesus?”

“He said he had his measurements done.”

“Not by me, he hasn’t. Arms down.” He stretched the tape down Elliot’s chest. Elliot squirmed. “I don’t know what Gideon was smoking when he casted him.”

“Uh,” Elliot supplied, helpful as always.

“Hm. Hope you’re not shy.” Romero wrapped the tape around his waist, making Elliot bite back a shriek. “You have to eat more, kid. Withdrawal?”

“And some other stuff.” 

“I hear you. You ever need to talk, share a joint.” 

Elliot chewed on that for a bit, just long enough for the silence to turn awkward and for Romero to finish.

“Thanks,” he said softly.

“No problem.” 

“For, for the other stuff.”

“Yeah. Listen, kid.” Romero hesitated. “Rose and I have been working on a concept.”

“Rose?" _ _

“Shut up. We’re thinking we want you in a leather jacket.” He ripped a design from the wall, handing it to Elliot. “What do you think?”

Elliot hated it, honestly. It looked kind of tacky, all leather with a rose embroidered on the back. Elliot wondered if he could get his initials next to it. “It’s nice.”

“Hallmark bullshit,” Romero muttered under his breath. 

“I can’t imagine Ollie in it.” 

“That’s the point. It’s for you.” He poked Elliot in the chest, making him jump. “Well, maybe for Leon too. Who knows. I’ll figure else out for what’s-his-name.” Romero rubbed his tired eyes. “He wants something in white.” 

“Uh.” 

“Yeah, that about sums it up.”

*

“ _ What did I tell you yesterday _ ?” Darlene shrieked. 

“Don’t take off my microphone, but -”

“No buts! Don’t touch it!” 

“- I was dancing and it was dangling and -”

“I don’t care.”

“- I’ve been on tech before -”

“Look at me not caring! Just,” Darlene tugged at her hair. “Go away.” 

“But -”

“ _ Now _ , Ollie.”

Ollie walked out of the booth, grumbling. Elliot peeled himself from where he had been attempting to blend in with the wall. 

“I hope he finds mic tape somewhere painful.” Darlene muttered. “What’s up, Elliot? You’re not mic’d, right?” 

“No. Uh. Do you wanna smoke a joint and watch bootlegs tonight?”

“Angela put you up to this?”

“Yeah.”

“Aw, you’re socializing. That’s good. Please the neurotypicals. Well, sorry to disappoint, kid.” She turned on house lights, leaving several actors to blink up at her owlishly. “I’ve got a hot date tonight.”

She waved down at Trenton, who smiled up at her. 

“How long?”

“Oh, a few weeks?” She stared at Trenton, her smile turning soft. “Yeah. A few weeks. Why don’t you ask Judas?”

“Uh.” Elliot flushed. 

“Called it!” Darlene crowed. “Ask him. Now. Or I fuck with your levels.” 

“Uh-huh.”

“Seriously, dweeb.” She pointed at the soundboard. “Just try me.”

*

Leon was talking with White Rose. White Rose was okay with him, right? Was he allowed to walk in?

“Elliot,” she called, then turned back to Leon. Elliot blinked, taking that as his cue to enter.

“I dig it,” Leon said, running his hands over a paper on the table. “Cuz, did you see the jacket?”

“Uh-huh.” Elliot chewed on the string of his hoodie, trying not to think about how bright Leon’s eyes got when he was excited. Was he like that when he stimmed? 

“I’ve had a vision,” White Rose said, closing her iPad. “The jacket will be a symbol of the relationship between Jesus and Judas. You,” she pointed at Elliot. “Will start the show wearing it. When you’re taken for the crucifixion, Judas picks it up off the ground and weeps over it in his suicide. Yes?”

“Hell yes,” Leon said, grinning. “Nice gay shit.” 

“Elliot?”

“Um.” What did Ollie say? Back off? “It’s up to the real Jesus, I guess.”

“The ‘Real Jesus’ is uninterested.” She gave a dangerous little smile. “It’s up to you.” 

Elliot turned the drawing towards him. Romero had redrawn it, detailing fine embroidery into faded leather. Elliot’s lips twitched. The ink was worn away from where Leon had run his fingers over it. Leon was glowing, flapping his left hand. 

“Okay.”

“Good!” She snatched the drawing away. “I’ll put this on Phillip’s desk.”

“Isn’t he busy blocking Caiaphas?” Leon said, his voice dripping with disdain. 

“God, and we still have to cast King Herod and John. What the hell  _ is _ this production?”

Leon shrugged. “Elliot, wanna meet up and run lines?”

Elliot’s stomach filled up with warmth. “Um.” He nodded. “Angela, too?”

“Oh, sure. Yeah.” Leon looked kind of… disappointed? “Sure. Dope little party.”

*

“Does Leon smoke? Shit, I didn’t think to ask,” Angela muttered. She was carefully arranging snack bowls.

“I dunno,” Elliot said, trying to be helpful. He’d plugged in his phone to a speaker and then sort of… sat. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes! Yes.” Her head snapped up at him. “All fine. I just want to make sure things go well between you two.” 

“Oh God.”

“No ulterior motive!”

“Darlene  _ told _ you?”

“Duh. She’s so proud. Our baby is growing up.” She wiped imaginary tears away. 

“I don’t even know if he’d…” Be interested? Was that it? Leon was so handsome. Elliot was so… not.

“I overheard him talking about an ex-boyfriend. Trust me. Just be yourself!”

Elliot looked down at his script. 

“Does this mean I’m gonna be carrying most of the conversation?”

Angela nodded, lips twisting into a smile.

“I can’t flirt  _ for _ you.” 

“Yeah, you can.” 

Angela threw a piece of popcorn at him. “Jerk.” 

*

Leon arrived with little fanfare, still in his theatre blacks with a binder on his hip.

“How’d you - who buzzed you in?”

“I’m like oxygen, babe. I’m everywhere.” 

Angela squinted. “What’s that from?” 

“Heathers. Duh. Elliot, what’s up?” He draped himself over the couch, stretching out like he owned the place. 

“Hi.” 

“Nice. Angela, can I help you carry shit?”

“I’m good. Do you smoke?” 

“Cigarettes? Nah.”

“No, like, joints.”

“Oh! Yeah, sure. Wasn’t expecting that from our little angel.”

“Oh, I’m full of surprises.” She grinned, passing him a joint and a bowl of a popcorn. Elliot felt like a third wheel. Angela perked up.

“Elliot smokes! He smokes all of it. Lots. He’s very cool.” 

Oh God. Elliot stared at her. 

“Is he? Hm.” Leon sat up, cocking his head to the side. He gave him a slow, sweet smile that made Elliot want to flap. “I guess he is.” 

Elliot rasped out a laugh, grabbing a pillow and hugging it close. He rocked slightly.

Angela looked at Leon, daring him to say something. 

“Stimmy little cutie.” 

Angela laughed, shocked. “Get a room.”

*

“Hey, y’all - whoa.” Darlene took stock of the room. “Alright.”

Elliot waved from where he was on the floor. They’d gotten… well, they’d gotten pretty high.

“Leon, what happened to your shirt? Nice binder, by the way.” 

“I got hot. And thank you.” He sat up. “Wait. Darlene?”

“My sister.” 

“Oh. What’s good?”

“Why are you shirtless in my brother’s apartment?” 

“I’m here too!” Angela threw her arm over the back of the couch. “Hi!”

“Oh, dear Angela. Sweet, sweet Angela. Such a lightweight. Anyway, brother mine, I’m gonna crash here for a few days.”

“Uh.” 

“Thanks, love you. So.” She picked her way through the room, over popcorn bags and (Leon’s) clothes. “Who’s off-book?”

Elliot raised his hand. Leon made a noncommittal noise. Angela groaned.

“Shame. Shame upon you all. Except for you, Elliot.”

“What are you doing here?”

“White Rose wanted me to grab Leon.” He groaned. “Something about Ollie.”

“I’m not stoned enough to deal with that,” he muttered. Darlene held up her phone. 

“You want me to tell White Rose that?”

“No! No. Lemme…” He tripped over himself trying to grab his shirt. “Fuck. Hold up.” Elliot stared at the long lines of Leon’s body, the muscles of his back flexing under his binder.

“You can close your mouth, Elliot.” Darlene laughed.

Leon winked at him. “I don’t mind.”

*

“No.”

“Yes.”

“Nope.”

“I could fire you.”

“I could quit.” 

White Rose raised one eyebrow. “Really?”

“Alright, I guess not.” Romero folded his arms. “Do I look like I’m in my twenties?”

“We’re all past our dancing days, Mr. Romero. You’re Caiaphas.”

“Um.” 

“You’re not interrupting, Elliot.”

“Sit tight, pretty boy. I’d much prefer to be a name on the Playbill. In the fine print.” 

“So you’d prefer to design a costume for Phillip Price?” 

Romero hesitated.

“Exactly. Good talk. Elliot, I’ll see you in rehearsal.” And she was gone, in a swirl of red jacket. Elliot stared after her. 

“Uh. You okay?”

“I guess so.” Romero sighed, rubbing his head. “Try this on.” 

He threw him a pair of black pants, a white shirt, and a jacket. He held it up, confused at the blank panel on the back.

“Oh, shut up. I haven’t embroidered in a while.”

*

“White Rose said you wanted to see me?” Leon said, squeezing a pin cushion. 

“Yes. Put that down. Nope, not in your pocket.” 

Leon slid it back on the table. “Killjoy. What’s up?” 

“I just wanted you to try on - oh.”

Elliot shuffled out from behind the costume rack, clad in skin-tight black jeans and a leather jacket. Leon stared. And kept staring.

“Um. The shirt didn’t fit. I don’t think the pants do, either.” 

Romero rubbed his chin. “I wanted a skinny silhouette, really emphasizing the vulnerability of the role. It’s not working, though?”

“It’s working for me,” Leon said, swallowing hard. Elliot jumped, folding his arms to cover his bare chest. Leon laughed. “Now we’re even, cuz.” 

Romero looked back and forth between them. “Alright, boys. Leon, does the jacket fit you?” 

Leon held out his hand. Elliot fiddled with the collar. “Um.”

Leon politely averted his eyes. 

“Thanks.” Elliot quickly shrugged it off, hiding behind the rack again.

“It fits. Well, a little tight in the shoulders.”

“Hm. Might emphasize the difference in the characters. Y’know, Jesus appearing smaller in more fabric, Judas appearing bolder in a tighter silhouette?”

“Whatever you say, man.” 

Elliot appeared again, a blush still on the tips of his ears and the back of his neck. “Hi.” 

“Hi.” Leon blew him a kiss. Romero seemed to consider something. 

“Elliot, are you going to be okay being shirtless onstage?”

“Uh. I didn’t know I'd have to be.” Elliot hesitated.

“Be honest, babe. You’re good,” Leon said quietly. Elliot’s eyes flickered to Leon, before he shrugged.

“I’ll be fine onstage. M-maybe not in rehearsal.”

Romero nodded to himself. “One of  _ those _ actors, huh?”

“Yeah. I guess.”

*

What Elliot did wasn’t… exactly method acting. Yes, once upon a time he’d been a young actor who idolized early Stanislavsky methods, but we grow out of such embarrassing phases. Elliot just… well. He just did it. Sometimes it was him, sometimes it was someone else. 

He had to be off-book since the beginning, though, otherwise he’d wake up and find out he’d improvised the whole thing. That pissed off a couple directors. 

In his sophomore year, they had to watch a recording of their production of Chicago in class and review it. All his classmates moaned and covered their eyes whenever they saw themselves, but Elliot?

Elliot didn’t even recognize himself. 

_ Too quiet.  _ Elliot had written.  _ Needs work. _


	4. Chapter 4

“You’re gonna fall.”

“I’m not gonna fall.”

“You’re gonna fall.”

“Nope,” Leon said, from where he balanced on the scaffolding. “I’m like a ninja. All badass, and shit.”

Darlene sighed. “Elliot, can you get your boyfriend down from there? Some of us have work to do.”

Elliot stared at her, eyes wide open. He opened his mouth, but no sound came out.

“Elliot, how much you wanna bet I can jump to the first turntable from here?”

“Uh.” Elliot swallowed. “Please don’t break your face.”

“Yeah. That’s arguably the best thing about you.”

“Oh, very well,” Leon said, swinging over to the catwalk. He pulled himself up, throwing his legs over the railing where he collapsed in a heap by Elliot and Darlene. “Flawless.”

“Ow. Elliot, you getting miked today?”

“Um.” Elliot nodded, trying not to think about how strong Leon was, how he could probably pick Elliot up and cradle him close.

“Yeah. Ollie called White Rose and said he was stuck in traffic and would be three hours late. Uh-huh.” Darlene grinned, nodding vigorously in response to Leon’s expression.

“Wow.”

“White Rose says we might as well get Elliot’s levels, so.” Darlene shrugged, taping Elliot’s mic wire to his neck. “Turn your head left, turn your head right. Feels good?”

Elliot nodded.

“Cool. Leon?”

“My tape is loose right here.”

“That’s why we don’t climb around the theatre like a jungle gym, dweeb.” She slapped another piece of tape on him. “Good?”

“Yep.”

“Alright, nerds. Go down into the space. Cisco!” She shrieked. “You have the cues for ‘The Last Supper’?”

There was some muffled cursing from the hallway.

“That had better be a yes!”

*

“I hope she fires Ollie soon,” Leon said, bending down to touch his toes.

“Uh?”

“I mean, c’mon. You’re totally Jesus now.”

“I don’t think -”

“Alright, let's get going,” Darlene said into the booth mic. “We only have a few minutes until the ensemble arrives, so Elliot’s up first.”

Elliot stepped forward, trying to ignore the flickering of different spotlights being tested and the fact that Tyrell and Joanna had entered the theatre and were staring at him.

“Quietest line?”

“Judas, must you betray me with a kiss?” Elliot whispered, barely singing. Only the sound of his consonants could be heard over the sound of chattering outside as the ensemble shuffled in.

“Try it again, Elliot.”

He sang again, stuttering through the phrase. One of the groups of ensemble kids were talking loudly about where they were going to go for lunch. Someone was laughing. Elliot stared at his feet as the theatre filled, hoping they weren’t laughing at him. Darlene hummed.

Leon stared at Elliot, wishing he could hug him. He looked so nervous. “You got this,” he murmured, watching Elliot’s shoulders stiffen. “You got this.”

“This isn’t working - let’s try your loudest line.”

“Um.” This was the hard part. When it came to the emotional, hardcore acting moments, ‘someone else’ always took over. People always said he performed like he was dying, loud and unashamed. Elliot would have to guess it was something like a shriek. “It’s in ‘The Temple’, around...?”

“I have it marked,” Darlene shouted. Cisco was showing the ensemble where to sit, trying to shut them up. “Roll track!”

Elliot took a deep breath. The track came in a little quicker than he anticipated.

“- but you have made it a den of thieves.” His voice echoed back to him. Several ensemble members jumped. “Get out! Get _out!”_ He screeched, trembling with effort.

The theatre fell silent, staring at him. Leon gaped. The boy was _loud_.

Darlene didn’t bat an eye. “Keep going.”

“My time is almost through,” Elliot sang, barely above a whisper. “Little left to do.”

Darlene adjusted his levels through the phrase until his voice seemed to float through the theatre. It was so quiet, Leon unconsciously leaned forward to hear him. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw White Rose do the same.

“After all, I’ve tried for three years.” Elliot bit his lip, lost in the character. “Seems like thirty. Seems like thirty…”

There was a pregnant pause, an audible tension in the air. Phillip made a noise in the back of his throat, nodding to himself.

Darlene stopped the track. “Nice. We’re ready, Mr. Price.”

Phillip cleared his throat as Elliot and Leon shuffled over to the chairs, trying to get everyone’s attention. “Ladies and gentlemen?”

It didn’t really work. Everyone was staring at Elliot. “Ladies and gentlemen, please be quiet. Please!”

He wished he could put up his hood.

*

The next fifteen minutes was spent shaking hands and waving at ensemble members. Elliot hid behind Leon for most of it.

“You auditioned for ensemble, yeah?”

Elliot nodded. “Huh. I can’t imagine meeting you like this.” Leon rubbed his neck. “I can’t imagine you in the crowd.”

“I stick out pretty bad.”

Leon laughed, as White Rose tapped her mic for attention.

“Settle down, kids. Have you all met the leads? Yes?” There were some murmurs. “Well, there’s Tyrell, who’s Pilate, and his wife, Joanna, who plays Simon.”

The young woman Joanna had been flirting with looked slightly put-out. The lovely couple just smiled, vacant. “Romero, our Caiaphas. He’s also my costumer.” Romero did a little two-finger salute, refusing to stand.

“I’d like to introduce Mobley, our new John.” The man did a little half wave. Elliot squinted at him. He looked very familiar. “And Scott, our King Herod.” A sunny looking man with tight curls waved. Leon wolf-whistled. Tyrell gave him an ugly look, his wife patting his arm.

“What’s your damage, Tyler?” Leon whispered. Elliot was careful to laugh quietly. Apparently his laugh was creepy.

“Leon, our Judas.” Leon jumped to his feet, giving the audience a sweeping bow.

“Lovely, Leon. And Elliot, our understudy Jesus. Unfortunately, Mr. Parker is unavailable today. Angela is our lovely Mary, wherever she is.”

“Hello!” Angela called from the catwalk.

“Darlene is the lovely young lady putting on our mic.” Darlene flipped her off. “Why, thank you, Darlene. She’s our Stage Manager, and Elliot’s sister. Isn’t that cute?”

The younger members of the ensemble laughed, nervous.

“Now, permit me to be frank. There’s a lot of rumors about this theatre. There are a lot of opinions online. I honestly don’t care. Mr. Price and I are here to make the best production we can. If you can’t contribute, you will be asked to leave. Got it?”

Silence. Some things never change.

“Good. Get up, all of you. Trenton, you have the floor.”

“Thank you.” The ensemble immediately began to chatter, obviously not taking her seriously.

“Oh boy,” Leon said.

“Shut up, all of you,” she said pleasantly. “We’re running Simon’s song. I’m going to put you in lines. Get out of formation, you’re cut. Yes?”

“Do you want Elliot and I up?” Elliot had never heard Joanna speak. She had a nice, lilting voice. Did she sing like that?

“Hm. I’m gonna show these guys the basic movements, you be on deck. Elliot, come down here. Don’t look scared, you’re more of a place marker for the lines. Leon?”

“Yes, darling?”

“Shut up.”

“I make no promises.”

*

“Holy fuck,” Leon said.

White Tyler nodded, speechless.

Joanna and Elliot were… really going for it. Trenton asked for a musical run-through, because the ensemble kept forgetting where they came in and where Simon came in. This meant that Joanna was full-on rock belting, grabbing Elliot by the belt loops and singing in his face.

“They’re gorgeous together,” Tyrell said, and Leon could imagine his forked tongue flicking out around his teeth.

“Yeah. What’s your accent?”

“I’m from Sweden.”

“Huh. Is that why you’re creepy as fuck?”

He let out an uncomfortably long laugh. “Maybe. God, that boy is delicious. Isn’t he delicious?”

“Uh… He’s handsome and talented, if that’s what you mean.”

“Mm. Very talented. He looks so small and pathetic next to my Joanna.” Leon swore he could actually see him licking his lips. “Talented boy. I can’t wait to work with him.”

“Yeah, same here,” Leon said, steel in his voice. Tyrell broke out of his trance, glancing over at Leon.

“I didn’t mean any offense,” he said, with a polite smile.

“Yep.”

“Perhaps my Swedish humor comes off a bit harsh.”

“Totally.”

Joanna was now holding Elliot’s face in her hands, crooning. Elliot looked like he was about to faint.

“So. What is the shit between you and Scotty?”

Tyrell scoffed, his polite mask evaporating. “We were both up for Bobby, in Company.”

“What happened?”

“I didn’t get it,” Tyrell hissed, from between his teeth.

“Ah. Well. He’s hot as hell, and I think he was checking my boy out.”

“Leon.” Trenton turned on her heel, smiling sweetly at him.

“Yes?”

She dragged a finger across her neck, smile never faltering.

“Sorry!”

*

“Good!” Trenton clapped her hands. “Okay. So you sing the whole gospel thing, blah blah blah, ‘power and glory, forever and ever’ and then it freezes. Elliot, whatever happens, make sure you land here. Or, y’know, close to here. Everyone, get into a picture around him.”

It was weird, pretending to be a lead. All the energy was directed to him, and he had to deal it back in spades. Or, sometimes, he just had to stand there and watch everyone else work.

“No, Joanna, a little farther - good. You, red shirt, arms lower…”

Weird.

“Nice. Leon, Tyrell!” Trenton called over her shoulder. “Does this look good?”

“Beautiful!” Tyrell called.

“It’s okay,” Leon said.

“Leon, take a picture and send it to White Rose.”

“Sure. Elliot, look cute. Perfect.” Leon snapped the picture.

“Alright. So all this happens, you land here.” She stomped on the ground, making Elliot jump. “Elliot, hit your mark here. If you don’t get here in time, for whatever reason, just walk forward onto the turntable while you sing. So you hold this freeze-frame for the applause, and you what?”

“Keep holding it,” The ensemble dutifully said, more or less in sync.

“Right! Elliot is on the turntable, he’s moving, he’s singing, and the lights will fade on you guys. When it hits black, you book it off stage. _Quietly._ Okay? Okay. Ten minute break.” She clapped her hands.

A couple members of the ensemble shook his hand, slapped his back. Elliot just stood there, unsure if he was allowed to move.

“Ollie?”

Was Elliot allowed to correct her? “Uh.”

“It’s a pleasure working with you.” Joanna grinned, showing perfect teeth. “That was fun, no?”

“Uh. Yeah.” Elliot shrugged.

“Join my husband and I for lunch sometime, won't you? He can’t _wait_ to work with you.” She cocked her head to the side, her eyes eerily placid.

“Okay.”

“Good!” She turned and walked over to Tyrell, passing Leon. Leon stared at him, then put up his right thumb. _You good?_

“Uh-huh.”

*

“Hello Elliot, Angela.”

“Hey Gideon!” Angela said, with her usual coffee induced cheer. “Glad casting is over?”

“I - well, yes. I suppose it was a long process. Truth be told, I don’t think Mr. Price is… happy with my work.”

“What do you mean?”

Gideon suddenly became occupied with cleaning his glasses. “Well, between you and me, I don’t think he wants to work with ALL-TWAS or me ever again.”

“You’re shitting me.” Angela squeezed her empty coffee cup. It crumbled under her grip. “What?”

“He, eh… disagrees with the casting of Caiaphas and - well.” He glanced at Elliot. “Some other things, too.”

“But that was White Rose’s call! She loves your casting!” Angela argued. Gideon shrugged, a weak smile on his face.

“I suppose so. Either way, my job here is done. Even if he does fire me, the play is cast. I just hope he doesn’t treat my husband any differently because of all this.”

“I’ll kick his ass if he does,” Angela said. Gideon chuckled, turning away. “Hey, I’m serious. You did an amazing job casting this.”

Shit. He had to say _something_. Elliot cleared his throat.

“Um. Thank you for what you’ve done for me. I think… um.” He lost momentum. “I… I really like working with you and your husband.”

“Oh, _Elliot,"_ Gideon said, stepping forward and -

Shit. He was gonna have to let Gideon hug him.

“Um.” Elliot patted Gideon’s back. “Yeah?”

“You’re very talented. You’re perfect for this role.” He pulled away, smiling. “Don’t let anyone tell you any differently. Angela?”

“Yes?”

“Don’t take any of Phillip’s shit.”

“Yes, sir,” Angela said, laughing. “Get going, you big sap. We have music rehearsal.”

*

“Everyone feeling warm? Do a few vocal sirens,” Mr. Goddard said, flipping through his book. The room was soon filled with the horrific sound of singers warming up, sliding from the very bottom of their range to the very top. “Okay, good. Did we want to work on ‘The Arrest’ or ‘The Temple’?”

“Depends. Trenton?”

She hummed. “I wanted to choreograph ‘The Temple’ next, but ‘The Arrest’ is more vocally challenging, right?”

“There’s just more going on, honestly. They’re both either on the melody, or there’s a very simple two part harmony.”

“Phillip?”

Mr. Price was staring at Elliot. He’d been staring at him since mic-checks, actually. Elliot tried not to fidget, flipping through his book.  

“Mm? Oh. We might as well clean ‘The Temple’, seeing as we have no Jesus.”

“We have one. Let’s get started on ‘The Arrest’.”

Phillip sighed, inclining his head to White Rose. “You heard the lady.”

*

And that was fine. Mr. Goddard showered Elliot with compliments, pointing to him as an example of dynamics and expression. Elliot just looked at his music, marking every little thing so he wouldn’t have to look at anyone else. He felt awkward standing up front by the piano. It was weird.

“Altos, basses, a little more. Sopranos, tenors, a little less. Pickups into -”

“Hello! Sorry I’m late.”

In burst Ollie, a salad and binder in hand. “Sorry, sorry. Hey Angela, how’s your day? Traffic was so bad, I swear those Hamilton fans are like a mob.” He smiled, expecting her to continue the conversation. Angela balked. White Rose cleared her throat.

“Ollie. Please don’t ever interrupt rehearsal like that again.”

“But I -”

“Ever.” Ollie’s jaw snapped shut. “We are working on ‘The Arrest’, if you cared to know.”

Ollie nodded, his lips pressed together. He walked up to the piano, standing next to Elliot. “If you don’t mind...?” He glanced towards Elliot’s seat in the back.

“Actually, Ollie, we’re finished with Jesus’s vocals for today. You’ll have to get his notes from Elliot. Elliot, Angela, you are excused to join Leon and Trenton for choreography. Ollie, sit in on the ensemble music rehearsal so you can pick it up. You’ll have to get choreography notes from Elliot later.” White Rose sighed, rubbing her temples.

“He could just run choreography today,” Elliot said. “I can watch.”

“You’re halfway done with it. I’d rather you’d just finish it entirely, at this point. Ollie’s already so far behind. I’m sorry, Mr. Goddard, what were you saying about the tenors?” She gave him a placid smile, ignoring the flush of anger on Ollie’s face. Angela stood and grabbed Elliot’s hand, dragging him out of the music room.

Weird. Elliot usually nailed his exits.

*

“Hey, y’all,” Leon said, waving at them as they entered. “What’s the buzz?”

Elliot gaped. The set was… well. It wasn’t _done_ , but. Huh. A center platform was in construction at the back - for Herod’s throne, if Elliot had to guess. Two staircases were on either side of it, each step an individual block. Cisco was testing lights behind the backdrop, running a sunrise. “For Gethsemane,” Leon explained. “White Rose is thinking we have the shadows of the soldiers coming to arrest you. Cool, right?”

“It’s really gonna happen, isn’t it?” Elliot whispered. Leon snorted.

“One way or another, this ship is sailing. Oh, you haven’t seen the best part!”

Leon ran to the center of the stage. Elliot looked at Angela, who shrugged.

“C’mon.”

The stage was solid, until floorboards creaked under their feet alarmingly. Elliot looked up at Leon with fright. His grin was huge.

“Darlene?”

“We are clear. Turntable one is go!”

The turntable whirred to life, making Elliot and Angela shriek at the sudden movement. Elliot toppled over onto Leon, who grabbed him around the waist and pulled him close.

“You good, Elliot?”

“Uh.” Leon’s eyes were so shiny and warm. His arms were just as strong as he’d imagined. “Um…”

“Save it for the kiss, boys.” Trenton let the theatre door swing shut behind her, Tyrell, Joanna, and Romero. “How was the rest of music rehearsal?”

“Ollie finally showed up,” Angela said. “White Rose finally told him off.”

Trenton whispered something in Farsi, eyes closed. “Thank the Lord. Wait, then why isn’t he in here?”

“He doesn’t know the song. White Rose figured he should learn it first.”

“Yikes.” Darlene called down from the catwalk. “You guys didn’t fuck with your mics, right?” They shook their heads. “Good. Romero, Tyrell, JoJo, your mics are still -? Sweet.”

Elliot realized he had never heard Romero sing before. Romero looked rather annoyed, actually.

“You good?”

“I was expecting to have an Anas,” Romero said through gritted teeth.

“I was expecting you to be Mr. Price,” Tyrell said blandly.

“Let’s just get through this. I’m not asking you to be chummy.”

“Oh, you won’t have to worry about that.”

“You two are already annoying me. You guys ran ‘This Jesus Must Die’, right?”

Tyrell and Romero grumbled some affirmatives. “Alright, love the enthusiasm. Romero, Elliot, I’m thinking we do ‘Hosanna’. Leon, you know what the plan is for this?”

“No clue. Last time I talked to White Rose she said she imagined me as, like, a bodyguard for this song. Or maybe it was ‘The Temple’?”

“Just - let me set Romero and Elliot, and we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it. Joanna, Angela, I have you guys in here for the transition into Simon’s song.”

Angela raised her hand. “Am I really needed for this stuff?”

Trenton shrugged. “If you wanna sit in there with Ollie…”

“Point taken.”

*

Leon screeched, flapping his hands.

“Holy shit,”  Angela said. “Is Romero a bass?”

“A basso profundo. He’s gotta be. This is so _cool.”_

Elliot and Romero were on the platform, which made terrifying noises whenever they moved on it. Romero’s voice filled the entire room, even when he straight-toned every note. At the next verse, Elliot matched his volume perfectly, the two of them on equal footing.

“Way better than with Mr. Price,” Joanna said. Tyrell squirmed.

“I suppose so.”

“I like Ollie. He’s pretty good.”

“Oh, uh.” Angela raised one finger, then immediately regretted it, letting it fall to her lap. “Ollie’s actually Jesus. The other Jesus.”

“I thought Elliot was the other one? The understudy?”

“No, no. Well. Yeah. Elliot,” Angela pointed to the stage, “Is the understudy. Ollie’s the, uh, the real one.”

Joanna turned to her slowly. “You mean to tell me that weak tenor who kept staring at my chest during rehearsal is the _real_ Jesus?”

“Yes?”

“Tyrell, a word?”

She dragged her husband outside, leaving Angela and Leon to stare at the stage.

“You think Joanna’s gonna fuck shit up?”

“We can only hope. _Shit._ Those two are killing it.”

“Hello? Earth to Angela and Leon?” Trenton shouted. “You’re supposed to be singing the ensemble part. Elliot’s been addressing thin air.”

Elliot waved at them.

“Oh. Sorry!”

“It’s okay.”

*

Elliot had been sleeping very well, lately. That was weird. He was so exhausted from rehearsing that he just fell asleep when his head hit the pillow. It was really nice.

“Elliot?”

Elliot decided to use his acting skills for good and pretend to be asleep.

“I know you’re awake, dickweed.”

Shit.

“I’m hungry and you have nothing in your fridge. Mickey D’s run?”

Elliot groaned. “When are you moving in with Trenton?”

Darlene choked on a laugh, pounding her sternum. “ _What_? What do you mean?”

Elliot waited.

“I mean, I don’t know if that’s in our future yet. Like. We haven’t been going out that long.”

Elliot waited, his eyelids growing heavy.

“I haven’t asked her yet. About - yeesh, Elliot.”

Elliot closed his eyes. His pillows were so comfy…

Darlene switched on the light, and jumped on Elliot’s bed, getting right in his face.

“Do you think I should?”

“I just wanna sleep.”

“Nope. We need Mickey D’s. Stat.”

*

Leon was always considered an odd fellow, especially by his siblings. That was saying something, considering how diverse his family was. It wasn’t because Leon was trans, it wasn’t because Leon was autistic, no. Of course not.

It was because Leon baked. Leon was a dope-ass baker. He baked while everyone else was asleep, and napped during the day.

Leon licked a bit of meringue off his finger, wondering what to do with it. He could make a lemon meringue pie, but that would require a crumb crust, and using the food processor might wake Mama up. He could make macarons, but he didn’t have any almond flour.

He was scrolling through Pinterest ideas when he got the text.

_Darlene’s lost it. McDonald's, 43rd?_

Leon scratched his nose.

_Who’s this lol_

_Sorry Elliot_

Leon dropped his phone in the meringue. “Fuck!”

“Leon!”

“Sorry, Mama!”

_yeah omw_


	5. Chapter 5

“Loosies and packs!” shouted a man outside McDonald’s. “Got loosies and packs!”

“No thanks, man,” Elliot said. Darlene just brushed by him. 

At 2:30 in the morning, the McDonald’s had a few people in it. Some were eating, sleeping, watching TV, or fiddling with their cute bandana and rubbing the back of their head in a way that made Elliot flush for some reason -

“Leon? Whoa, talk about coincidence,” Darlene said, throwing her coat at him. The other customers looked up at her, blearily. Way too loud for 2:30 in the morning. 

“Elliot texted me. I think. Or a hacker. Is this your number?” 

“It was me.” Elliot tried to sound casual and cool. “Sorry for, uh… sorry.” 

Nailed it.  

“He texted me saying you’d lost it.

Ableist language, by the way. What’s up?”

“Sorry. Uh.”

“Any particular reason I'm here with you?”

“Not really, um -”

“He missed you,” Darlene interjected, smirking.

“Darlene’s having a gay meltdown.”

“God,” she moaned, dropping her head in her hands. “What if she’s been waiting for me to ask her? I don’t have a house! Shit.”

“Give me the W’s. Who, what, when, where, and why.”

“Should I ask Trenton if she wants to be roomies?”

“Yes,” Leon answered, without hesitation. Darlene’s head snapped up. “If only so she’ll stop worrying if you like her. Seriously.”

“Really?” Darlene arched an eyebrow. “If you’re bullshitting me, I’ll switch your mic channels.”

“Cross my heart.”

Darlene screamed, making the other customers jump. “Holy fuck. Okay. I’m gonna ask her.” She laughed, leaning her elbows on the table. “So. What’s new with you?”

“Darlene, it’s three in the morning.”

“Yeah?”

Elliot decided to steal some of Leon’s fries.

“Other than Phillip firing Tyrell? Not much.”

Elliot dropped the french fry. Darlene’s smile froze. 

“Oh, as his assistant, I mean.”

“Jesus.” Darlene placed a hand over her heart. “Don’t do that to me. What the  _ fuck _ ?”

“Word is, he tried to convince Phillip to fire Ollie. Philly-Steak and Fries saw right through it, got pissed, and fired him.”

“But he’s still in the show?”

“Still in the show.”

“Yikes.” 

Elliot nodded, shoving three fries into his mouth. “Hm.” 

“I thought Ollie and Tyrell were chill.”

Leon shrugged, looking way too hot for three in the morning. “I have some thoughts, but no concrete reasons. Those two are crazy, anyway.”

“Ableism?”

“You’re right, sorry. They’re Swedish creepy white people. Tyrell likes Elliot, so does Joanna. It was probably a power play, and it didn’t work.” He blew a raspberry. “Sucks. I was hoping we got rid of Oliver.”

Darlene sighed. Elliot swallowed his mouthful of fries. “He’s not that bad.” Leon coughed, waving a hand in front of his face. “Really. He can sing.”

“It’s not that he’s that bad,” Darlene said, stealing Leon’s milkshake. “It’s just that you’re way better.”

“Do you have your lact-aid?”

“No.” 

Elliot slid the milkshake back to Leon. “I dunno.”

Leon laughed, and Darlene shook her head with a fond smile. “Seriously, cuz? You’re Jesus, in my head.”

“This show would be way better with you as the lead.”

Elliot flushed. “Okay.” 

“Cuz.” Elliot ducked his head. “Babe.” Elliot shrugged his shoulders up to his ears. “Cutie! I’m not fucking around. I love working with you, man.”

Elliot hummed, rocking slightly. Leon chuckled, so quiet he could barely hear it. 

“Wait, did you seriously eat all these?”

“Uh.”

“You’re lucky you’re cute. Asshole.”

*

After another large order of fries, a Big Mac, and a twenty-piece chicken nugget meal, they were back outside, surrounded by steel and inky black night. Leon was rolling a joint and leaning back against the wall casually, as if he intended to stay for a while longer. Elliot approached shyly and Leon smiled, exhaling smoke. He had a small gap between his front teeth. “It was nice to see you tonight, cuz.”

“Yeah.”

“I’m always down for shit like this, give me a call, okay?”

Elliot’s lips curled upward in a tiny smile. “Okay.”

Leon took a tiny step closer, his dark eyes reflecting silver in the moonlight, wisps of smoke from his last drag floating away. The change was subtle but remarkable. “Elliot,” he whispered, “can I hug you?”

For once, Elliot didn’t freeze up. A yes sounded like the reasonable answer. Leon’s Chucks were toe-to-toe with his sneakers and he found it was more than okay. He rested his forehead on Leon’s shoulder and heard Leon sigh contently. His arms were so strong, his hands were so gentle. When was the last time he’d enjoyed being hugged? Elliot didn’t know.

But Leon was safe and warm and he didn’t want to let go.

“See you around, cuz.”

In bed that night, he dreamed of Leon, sleeping peacefully beside Elliot. Their own little heaven.

*

“No, stop, stop, stop. This isn’t working.” White Rose held her head in her hands. For once, Phillip was beside her, stroking his beard. She turned to him.

“There’s no chemistry. Nothing.” She leaned in closer, and they began one of their tense, whispered conversations. 

Ollie and Leon shifted their weight on their feet, glancing at each other. Leon realized this was the closest he had ever been to him.

“The awkwardness almost works. It adds tension.”

“It’s a kiss!”

“A kiss for a  _ greeting _ _,_ included for historical accuracy.”

“Oh, Phillip, please.” White Rose rolled her eyes. Phillip puffed up.

Yikes.

“No offense,” Ollie blurted, “but, uh, I’m not gay… isn't this kind of weird? Not to be racist or anything -”

White Rose slowly turned to him, a smile spreading onto her face.

Oh dear. 

“Finish your thought, Mr. Parker. We’re all waiting.” Silence. “Hm. I was under the impression you were an actor, yet I’ve seen high school performances with better stage kisses.”

“Well,” Phillip harrumphed. “It isn’t entirely his fault. If Leon would look less disgusted -”

“I’d be disgusted too -” White Rose muttered.

“- perhaps it would look more natural. As I said, the tension works for a betrayal. He’s just admitted to selling him out!”

“- but there has to be an element of love, otherwise it means nothing!”

“Keep pushing like this, people will say you have an agenda.”

“I do. It’s not making shitty plays.”

Leon decided to sit down on the stage. This would clearly take a minute. He looked over at Elliot. Would he have the same issue? Was it something wrong with his own acting? 

“I’m gonna get a drink,” Ollie announced. No one looked at him, or responded. “Okay.”

He hurried out of the room. Leon shot Elliot a glance. Elliot shrugged.

“Can I try it with Eli?”

Phillip barely glanced up. “He’s an understudy.”

“And?” 

He sighed. White Rose nodded to Elliot, who stumbled onto the turntable.

There was something hesitant in Leon’s eyes as he approached Elliot. “I… have some ideas as to how this should go down,” he whispered, so earnestly it was almost painful, “but if you’re uncomfortable at all, please tell me, okay, cuz? I don’t want to hurt you.”

Elliot nodded, smiling shyly. “Okay.”

“Okay.” Leon stepped back, looked at White Rose as a signal they were beginning, and took a deep breath.

The presence Elliot knew as Leon had completely disappeared. In his place was Judas Iscariot, coming close, closer to Elliot than he’d ever been, eyes blazing as he pressed his lips to Elliot’s, cupping his face. 

Elliot made a small noise of surprise. The script said a kiss on the cheek, passionate, but as though between friends with a rift between them, not lovers saying goodbye. And he wasn’t supposed to feel this way. But if White Rose said it was okay -

Elliot was kissing back, and he was sure it had been hours like this, days - months - years like this - he was memorizing the curve of Leon’s mouth against his, warm hands slowly moving from his cheeks to the base of his neck -

And then it was over, and White Rose was really smiling, like a suspicion had just been confirmed, and Elliot was fighting an overwhelming urge to kiss Leon again, such that it took a few seconds to recall his line and he tried not to look as giddy as he felt saying it.

“Judas… must you betray me with a kiss?”

White Rose cut the music.

“Perhaps look a little less ecstatic.” 

“Sorry!”

*

“Hello there, loverboy.” Darlene winked at him.

Elliot flushed, rubbing his lips. They were still tingling. “It was a stage kiss!”

“Didn't look that way to me,” said Angela. “Leon was really enjoying himself. And so was -”

Elliot flushed a deeper red as Angela was elbowed silent. “Speak of the devil,” Darlene muttered, grinning. 

Suddenly Leon was there, hands flapping so hard they blurred. His eyes were ten times brighter than usual as he spoke. “You kiss real good, cuz.” He beamed. Elliot felt warm. “We should do it again sometime.”

“Well, maybe Ollie will fuck up again.”

“Maybe he’ll die,” Leon said slyly.

“Leon!” 

“Just saying.”

*

“How’s that feel, Ollie?”

Ollie made a noise of distaste, turning in the mirror to see the back of the jacket. “It’s a little tight.”

“Well, it’s a bit rough when the actor doesn’t come in for measurements.”

Ollie seemed to ignore this. Elliot hoped he couldn’t see him. He was behind the rack with Leon, feeling different fabrics for shirts.

“Mm.” Leon had his face buried in a pristine white shirt. His voice was all muffled. “I like this.”

Romero slid all the shirts to the side with a clang. Elliot jumped back. Leon whined, clinging to the shirt.

“Do you mind?” Romero said, tapping Leon’s head.

“Yes,” Leon said. Elliot covered his arms, feeling weird in just a tank top. Romero gave him a sympathetic look.

“Anything seem good?”

Elliot pointed at the white shirt Leon was snuggled in. “Uh.”

“Hmm. You can leave, Ollie. And the jacket, too.”

Ollie scoffed. “I was hoping for white as well. Like, a robe? Can we do that, instead?”

“It goes against White Rose’s vision.”

Ollie muttered something under his breath. Romero’s eyes narrowed.

“Speak up, boy.”

“I’ll talk to her about it.” Ollie sniffed. “Here.” He tossed Elliot the jacket. Elliot didn’t quite catch it, his cheeks burning as he picked it up off the floor. “See you, Elliot.”

“Bye.” 

Romero waited for Ollie’s footsteps to retreat and for the door to close. He let out an explosive breath.

“Where was I, fellas? Yes, that shirt is for Pilate, or for the other Jesus. White Rose is still caught up on a shirtless Jesus in the leather jacket for you.” He poked Elliot in the chest. He was more used to it, now. It was kind of nice, in a pressure stim way. Leon groaned. “That sound chaf-y.”

“Good thing it’s not your costume. Elliot, are you still okay with that?”

Elliot rubbed his shoulders. “Uh. Will it be unzipped the whole show?”

“Probably. It might not have a zipper - Darlene says the mics might pick it up.”

“Is it soft inside?”

Romero stroked his chin. “I could figure something out.”

“I guess I’m okay with it.”

Leon caught his eye. “You guess?”

“Let the kid speak for himself, Romeo,” Romero said. “Elliot?”

“Yeah. It’ll be fine.” He had to say something to cut the sudden tension in the room. “Is Leon’s costume done?”

“Oh! Yep. That took twelve seconds.” Romero shuffled to the craft table, grabbing a bin labeled “L-J”. He tossed Leon a bundle of black, and then a chain. “Shirt, jeans, belt. Compliments the jacket, when you get it.”

“Do I end up wearing it?” Leon casually stripped, revealing toned abs and biceps. He was wearing a white binder today. Elliot flushed and turned to face the wall, staring at set sketches. 

“Not sure, yet. Rose is all for it, but Mr. Price says it might be a bit heavy-handed. He thinks you should just end up holding it.”

“Hm.” Leon’s jeans clattered to the floor. Elliot could feel his ears burning, and he decided to memorize each sketch. Fascinating.

“These are tight! Shit!” Leon was struggling to put on his jeans. Romero chuckled somewhere in Elliot’s right ear.

“Elliot, when your face cools down, get the jacket on.”

Elliot had forgotten he was holding it. He traced his fingers down the fine embroidery. The bright red in the rose was almost garish, so as to be seen onstage. Elliot slipped off the tank top and put it on. It was a bit long in the sleeve, but stretched over his shoulders just right. He eyed his skinny torso in the mirror, tracing a finger up his ribs.

Did he really want Leon to see this?

“Shit. I look hot,” Leon said. 

“What can I say. I do what I do.” 

“The shirt is so soft, too! Elliot, come feel.” 

Elliot turned to Leon, and pleasantly thought of nothing.

He walked towards him, eyeing the way the black tank top stretched over his abs, how it seemed to make his muscles even larger. The chains on his belt were tarnished, not half as shiny as Leon’s smile, as his pretty eyes. 

Romero hummed. “Maybe the sleeves could taper and end at the elbow. Might make you look younger. Push ‘em up a little?”

Elliot did, acting on auto-pilot. 

“Yeah. That looks good. Leon?”

Leon was just as speechless as Elliot. “Uh. Soft?”

Elliot reached out, rubbing from Leon’s chest to his shoulders. “Soft,” he breathed. “Mm…” 

He leaned in, smelling clean laundry detergent and the Old Spice deodorant Leon liked to wear. He folded himself into Leon’s chest, wrapping his arms around Leon’s shoulders. Leon inhaled sharply, then slipped his arms around Elliot’s waist, pulling him closer, closer, until their legs were intertwined. Leon rested his chin on Elliot’s head before nuzzling into his hair, his breath ghosting over Elliot’s ear.

For one dizzying moment, Elliot was sure Leon was gonna kiss him. He held his breath.

And promptly released it at the sound of an iPhone shutter.

“Nice. That’s going to Rose, for sure.”

Leon let out a shaky laugh, squeezing Elliot. “Wow. These costumes are something.”

Elliot hummed into Leon’s shirt, not quite ready to return to the land of the living. He heard Leon’s lips part into a grin before he felt a hand slide into the back pocket of his jeans.

“Leon!” Elliot shrieked, not moving a muscle. Leon giggled, biting his lip.

“Boys, boys. Not in the costume den.”

*

“You’re shitting me. You’ve gotta be shitting me.”

“I shit you not.” White Rose flicked a finger across her iPad. “Susan Jacobs has officially signed her contract for Anas. She’ll be arriving to the theatre either tomorrow or the day after.”

Darlene let her head fall to her tech notes with a thunk, papers flying everywhere. Sensing some tension, Elliot decided to raise his hand.

“Yes?”

“Who’s Susan?”

“Oh, one of Phillip’s old chums from University. She was Sally Bowles in his Cabaret, and Lady M.”

“She’s called Madame Executioner.” Darlene’s voice was muffled. “She kills every show she works with.”

“She hasn’t worked with an Artistic Director like me.”

“One who doesn’t take shit?” Leon supplied.

“Yes. Thank you, Leon. Let’s get some things straight.” She closed her iPad and removed her glasses. “She is a bully. She will try to reject my artistic direction. She will try to give you notes on Phillip’s behalf. She will come in here like she owns the place. She will try to ruin the momentum Leon creates in every scene. She will try to change all the notes Darlene and I have worked on. She will try to push Elliot out of the picture. Do not let her. Understood?”

Leon nodded. 

“Hear, hear,” Darlene said, raising her water bottle. “If thing’s going down, it won't be because of her.”

“Yep. It’ll be because of our incompetent director.”

“Optimism, children. This is still my show. My shows never fail.” White Rose sighed, cracking her neck. Elliot felt warm. 

“Thank you,” he said quietly. “For all of that.”

She gave him a tired smile, taking a breath to gather herself.

“I’m going to go tell everyone else. Keep up the good work.”

And with that she was gone, the tech door swinging shut behind her.

Darlene moaned. “I hate her. God, I hate her.”

Elliot glanced over at Leon, who shrugged. “We’re, uh. We’re gonna be okay.”

“Yeah, I just… do you remember her, Elliot?” Darlene bit her lip.

Elliot froze. “Huh?”

“It’s okay if you don’t!” she said hastily. “I was, like, four, so. I wouldn’t blame you, or anything.”

“No. Is it bad?”

Darlene hesitated, then stood briskly. “I shouldn’t have said anything. It’s nothing. She’s just - she’s bad news.” She put her hand on Elliot’s shoulder. “Don’t let her fuck with you, okay? You deserve to be in this show.” Her voice grew strained and oh no. Darlene can’t cry. “I love working with you, kiddo.”

Leon politely averted his eyes as she pulled him in for a hug, both of them crying. He slipped out of the tech booth, White Rose’s silent shadow.

*

“God, I feel like I haven’t seen you in three years.” Angela’s head fell back onto the couch as she blew smoke into the air. “I feel like we’re not even in the same show.”

Elliot groaned from somewhere under the coffee table. It was nice under there. Leon and Darlene were snoring, somehow both shirtless and asleep over opposite arms of the couch. Angela was being used as a pillow by both of them. 

“Elliot, get me a snack? I can’t move.” 

“They’re on the table in front of you. Above me. Where am I?”

Angela made pathetic noises, barely attempting to reach for the Little Debbie cakes Leon somehow pulled from thin air. Elliot threw one in her general direction. She caught it, of course. Not even weed could dampen her softball skills.

“I don’t wanna perform with Ollie,” she groaned through a mouthful of cake. “I wanna perform with you.”

“If he gets sick, you will.”

“We’d bring the house down.” To illustrate this, she threw her wrapper on the floor. “Can I have another - thank you.”

Elliot crawled out from under the coffee table as she fumbled with the wrapper, looking for another joint and patting his pockets for a light. 

“Where’s my Zippo?”

“In Darlene’s bra.”

“Oh.” A thought struck him. “Where’s your Zippo?”

“In Leon’s binder.”

“Oh.” He somehow managed to haul himself onto the arm chair. “Is this show gonna be okay? Are we gonna sell tickets?”

Angela shrugged. “Mm. Is anything selling tickets?”

“Hamilton’s moving to Chicago before we open.”

“True.” She took a long drag before passing the joint to Elliot. She jostled Leon in the process, who groaned and turned over. “He’s pretty cute.”

“ _ Angie _ _._ ”

“I’m just saying.” She stretched out on the couch, her head on Leon’s stomach and her feet on Darlene’s thighs. “Why are we in this, again?”

“I dunno. You forced me to audition.”

“God.” She snickered. “That feels like forever ago. I’m glad you did.”

“Me too. I wish White Rose was the director.”

“Eh. She pretty much is.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Yeah. I know what you mean. I wish our cast was nicer. Ollie’s a creep, Phillip’s a jerk, Tyrell scares me, Joanna does too, and now Susan -” She cut herself off. Elliot stared at what was left of the joint. 

“I don’t remember her.”

“Darlene told me.” 

He put the joint on some weird coaster Angela dug up from somewhere. He watched the smoke curl and disappear. 

“Did they ever find out what’s wrong?” Angela asked. Her voice was shaky, like it was about to crack. 

Elliot shrugged.

“I’m sorry. Do you want me to tell you about her?”

Another shrug. Elliot squeezed his eyes shut.

“Okay. Maybe when we’re sober.” She stood on wobbly legs. Darlene snorted, and Leon groaned. “I’m gonna go to bed. Goodnight, Elliot. Love you.”

“Love you too.” 

Her socks made quiet little padding noises as she went off to the bathroom. He swore he could hear someone.

_ “You really don’t remember?” _

He shook his head, humming quietly.

_ “C’mon, kiddo . ” _ And now he could hear his dad sigh. Always so disappointed. Elliot rocked back and forth, wrapping his arms around his legs and humming.  _ “You can do better than that.” _

“Cuz?” 

Leon’s voice was salvation.

“I got you, cuz. C’mere.” And Leon was there, picking Elliot up and sitting with him on his dad’s armchair. “There we go. Hey.” He let Elliot get comfortable on his lap before wrapping his arms around him. “I got you.”

He rocked him back and forth until Elliot fell asleep, and didn’t even complain about the tears on his binder.

*

“You guys are nerds.”

“You’re just jealous you don’t have a cutie to snuggle up with.”

Elliot blinked, yawning. Someone’s alarm was going off.

“Yo, cuz? Call time is in an hour.”

“Oh, God.” Elliot wasn’t dressed, hadn’t taken a shower -

“We’re good. Don’t worry.” Leon kissed his temple. “White Rose said we had some wiggle room. First hour is for ensemble and Anas.”

“Okay.”

“We’re gonna pick up some hash browns from Mickey D’s. That sound cool?”

“Mhm. Fries too?”

“And a toy,” Darlene pledged, a hand over her heart. Angela giggled, dragging her out the door. “Leave the lights on, you hear?”

Wait.

Leon kissed his temple.

Leon  _ kissed _ him.

Elliot flushed, burying his head into Leon’s shoulder. Leon was being cool about it, so Elliot should be cool about it. Maybe Leon kissed people all the time. Maybe it was a thing Elliot didn’t know about. There was a lot of social things Elliot didn’t know about. Yes. There we go. All good.

“Yo, cuz? You in there?” He tapped Elliot’s head. “You smell like weed and regret.”

Elliot shrugged, making Leon laugh. He could feel the vibrations in Leon’s body, feel the air being pushed out of his diaphragm. It was intoxicating.

“Go shower. I’m gonna whip something up. Twenty bucks says those two get lost on the way.”

*

Leon stared into the kitchen cabinets. How the hell were you supposed to seduce a guy with baking when he didn’t have any ingredients?

“Do you ever eat?” Leon yelled. He heard a noncommittal noise over the spray of the shower. “Actually, don’t answer that. I’ll get sad.”

Peanut butter cookies. There we go. Peanut butter, salt, sugar… and Elliot had no eggs. Shit. 

There was only one thing to do in times like this. 

“Mama?”

“Good morning, baby. Why are you calling so early? Don’t you have work soon?”

“Yeah, uh, listen. What’s a good recipe when there’s, like, nothing in the house?”

Mama Leon hummed. “Aren’t you at Jesus’ house?”

“Yeah.”

“The cute one or the white one?”

“The cute one.”

“And you’re trying to win his heart?”

“Yep.”

“And he has no baking ingredients?”

“That about covers it.”

She sighed, a rush of static over the phone. “Did you try the peanut butter cookies?”

“No eggs.”

“Shit. Are apples out of the question?”

“I don’t think he eats fruit. Or vegetables. Or anything except McDonald’s fries.”

“Flour? Salt? Shit, no eggs. I was gonna say crépes.”

“Can you make them with water?”

“Uh,” she said, in a tone of voice that meant no. “Maybe?”

“Shit. He has butter.”

“Well, God bless America. Do the peanut butter cookies. And watch your language.”

“You said ‘shit’ first. I was following your lead.”

“I’m very old, Leon.”

“So you can do whatever you want?”

“I can do whatever I want. Good luck!”

“Love you, Mama. Be safe.”

“You too.”

Leon nodded to himself. Alright. He could do this.

*

Elliot emerged from the shower when the fire alarm went off. “Leon?”

“It’s fine! It’s all fine!” It sounded like he was waving a towel around. “Fuck. Fine!”

Elliot stumbled into some jeans, a shirt, a pair of shoes. His phone was at 13%. That would have to do.

“When the fire alarm goes off in one apartment, I think the whole building has to evacuate.”

The sound of furious toweling stopped. “Really?”

“Really.”

“Well, shit.”

*

“Why are you two outside? Wait, why are all the tenants outside?”

“Elliot, did you leave a joint on the counter again?”

“No,” Elliot said, from where he and Leon were huddled on the curb. Leon smelled like sugar. “Leon burned the kitchen down.”

“Your fire alarm is sensitive as fuck. Like my sense of self-worth, so please be gentle right now.”

“Aw, Leon.” Darlene plopped down beside him, handing Elliot his fries and Leon his weird berry chicken salad thing. “You gentle and magical man.”

“Should we just go to the theatre?” Angela asked, shivering. 

“Yeah, probably.”

“Man, I just sat down,” Darlene groaned. 

They stumbled off, Leon’s arms still around Elliot’s shoulders. They fell a bit behind Angela and Darlene, but Elliot wasn’t worried. Leon knew where they were going.

“Yo, cuz? I’m really sorry. Again. I was gonna surprise you with cookies, but it didn’t go so well.”

“Why?”

“Well, because I thought if I turned the oven way up they’d cook faster -”

“No, why were you gonna surprise me?”

Leon gave him an odd look. “I like to see you happy.”

Elliot just stared at him. 

“Is that so hard to believe?”

“Yeah.”

“Aw, cuz.” He stumbled into Elliot in a friendly sort of way. “I like it when you’re happy. You get all blushy and cute. It’s great. See, right there! Your ears get pink!”

Elliot put up his hood, ducking out of Leon’s arms.

“Aw, man, come back!”

“Gotta catch up to Angela and Darlene.”

“Nope.” Leon grabbed him around his waist, making Elliot squeak. “You gotta stick with me, little cutie.” He kissed Elliot’s head noisily, making Elliot huff out a laugh.

“I’m gonna bake you something for real, next time.”

“Uh-huh.”

“It’s gonna be delicious.”

“Sure.”

“Is that doubt in your voice?”

“Nope.”


	6. Chapter 6

 

Ollie was up for once, running the blocking and choreography. He might have suddenly felt inspired, but it was probably the fact that Director Price was in the room. 

There had been an awkward moment where Ollie moaned about not knowing blocking and Phillip accused Elliot of keeping notes from Ollie. Of course, Ollie hadn’t ever actually asked for notes, as Angela helpfully pointed out. Phillip had just harrumphed, and Susan commented on the diversity of the cast and how many problems it must cause. White Rose then informed her that both Phillip and Gideon signed off on all casting decisions, and ‘don’t you think you should apologize for insulting their decisions?’ 

So that had been awkward. 

“Alright, that about wraps it up. Good job, everyone,” Trenton said, clapping. “I need you to eat, sleep, and breathe this number until we run it again. Got it?” There were some murmurs of assent. Susan shot Trenton a dirty look, which she roundly ignored. “Good.”

“Everyone, if I may -” White Rose began. Leon cupped his hands around his mouth.

“Everyone shut up!”

“Thank you, Leon. We have a reporter coming today, an old friend of mine. She might ask for pictures, but I know she wants to sit down with Phillip, Angela, Ollie, and Leon at least. Tyrell, Joanna, Scott -” Elliot had totally forgotten about him. “- I want you on call.”

“Should I be there?” Susan asked. Phillip cut White Rose off.

“Yes. Of course.”

“Good.”

“Trenton, you go too. Please.”

“No problem, boss.”

Leon shot him a look.  _ I’m sorry, _ he mouthed.

Elliot shrugged.

“Elliot, you come with me.”

“M-me?”

“Unless there’s another Elliot I have yet to meet…”

“Sorry. Uh. Coming.”

*

“Ms. Rose, great to see you.”

“Krista.” They kissed each other’s cheeks, once on each side. Elliot shifted, unsure of what to do. “This is Elliot Alderson, our understudy for Jesus.”

“Oh!”

Krista seemed nice. She hurried over to shake his hand. “Pleasure to meet you. We’ll talk after...?”

“Of course. Have fun.”

Krista gave her a little smile. “I’ll try to.”

White Rose smiled until she was gone. The effect was kind of creepy, the way it just slid from her face. “Oh, Krista Gordon. She’s too sweet for this business.”

Elliot wasn’t sure if he was allowed to talk. He shrugged. 

“You’re a funny little boy, aren’t you?”

“I’m turning thirty.”

Elliot felt immense satisfaction at rendering her speechless.

*

Ollie had been talking for thirty minutes. Dear Lord.

Leon watched the condensation drip down his water bottle. This was like that first day of introductions, before Angela and Darlene became smoking buddies. Before Elliot.

Jesus. Before Elliot. B.E.

Leon flushed, hoping nobody saw his indulgent smile. He wanted to cuddle him up and never let him go. He wanted him to never feel cold or lonely. He wanted to…

God. He really wanted another kiss, for starters.

“Judas, may I call you Judas?” Leon let out a polite laugh. He thought it was polite. Neurotypicals were usually still scared of it. 

“Leon’s fine. What’s up?”

“Some would say Judas is the real main character of the show.” Ollie snorted. He was ignored. “How do you handle that pressure?”

Leon cocked his head to the side. “Weed and premarital sex. Next question.”

Phillip made a choking noise. “We can cut that, yes?”

Krista was too busy laughing to answer.

*

“If I put a white robe on that stage, it better be burned.”

“Romero, I’d agree, but it’s the only way to make Phillip shut up about favoritism.”

“What, by ruining our artistic vision?”

“Apparently.”

Elliot sat on a props bin as Romero and White Rose bickered about something or other. He had a stim toy on his keychain, but he was too embarrassed to chew on it. What if White Rose thought he was weird? He decided to just squish it between his fingers.

“Favoritism this, favoritism that. I’m sorry I want to see an interesting actor on stage. Man of color, I might add,” Romero said, holding up a finger. White Rose sighed.

“If he gets the jacket, Ollie gets the robe.”

Leon had left a fidget on the table, one with all the different little slots you could slide up and down with your thumb. Would he mind if Elliot used it? Elliot’s fingers were itching for something to -

“Elliot? Did you hear me?”

Elliot jumped. “Sorry.”

“You’re fine. You and Romero went to jail together?”

“Uh. Yeah.” Elliot looked down at his shoes.

“May I ask what for?”

“It was a couple things.” Screw it. Elliot put his keychain between his teeth. White Rose didn’t seem surprised, or at least hid it well. 

“Humor me.”

Should he tell her about the drugs? The meltdown? The smashed property? “I stole a dog.”

Romero snorted. “He was the saddest guy I saw in there. I had to look out for him. Did you get my picture?”

“Your what?”

“My picture. I texted it to you.”

“Oh.” White Rose waved her hand. “That. I don’t check my phone.”

“Well, check it.”

“Pass me my purse, Elliot? Thank you. Oh, it says Image Attached. How do I…?”

“Elliot, please help her.” Romero said, from somewhere behind the crafts table. Elliot clamored to his feet, still sucking on his keychain.

“You tap it, and it’ll bring up a little prompt.”

“I’m tapping. Nothing’s happening.”

“It’s like your iPad, you know how you have to hold it a bit?”

“Yes, I’m well aware, Mr. Alderson.”

“No, not with your nail, you have to - there you go. Now tap download.”

“Oh!” 

The picture Romero took popped up. Elliot blushed. It looked like the cover of one of those awful romance books Cisco left lying around the theatre. He was clutching Leon’s chest, who had his hands around his waist.

“Oh, I love it. How do I zoom in?”

“J-just like an iPad. Like, a reverse pinch?”

“Yes, got it.” She zoomed so Elliot and Leon’s faces were cropped out, leaving only the embroidered rose and Leon’s arms around his waist visible. “There it is.”

She stared at it for a moment. “What if that was our promo image?” A thought seemed to strike her. “What if that was our  _ playbill _ ?”

“What, with the craft table in the background?” Romero called over, tossing shirts into bins. 

“Come see this.”

Romero groaned, ambling over. He whistled at the screen. 

“Mighty fine shot, if I do say so myself.”

“My thoughts exactly.”

“Hm.” 

Elliot walked over to the props table, reaching out for the crown of thorns.

“Is that your prop?”

Elliot froze. “Maybe?”

White Rose just laughed.

*

“- the Bible is sexist. We all know that. That’s just a given,” Joanna said, gesturing fetchingly. Phillip coughed. Joanna ignored him. “It was written and translated, sometimes incorrectly, by men.”

“Besides, women were with Jesus until the very end! They were always by his side, and always silent in every interpretation. What’s up with that?” Angela threw her hands up. Krista nodded, writing furiously. “And the women that  _ were  _ in the Bible have been changed - for example, Pilate’s wife.” 

“Very true. One might say that the character of Mary is just an amalgamation of many women, condensed down to sing a song about the male lead.” Joanna sighed. Tyrell and Ollie looked at each other, squirming. Leon high-fived Angela under the table.

Phillip cleared his throat, his cheeks burning. “Let’s talk about Jesus.”

Not again. Leon let his head thunk onto the table. Krista hurriedly closed her notebook and stopped her tape recorder.

“Actually, I need to get going. Could one of you help me find Rose?”

“Of course,” Leon said, charm dripping from his teeth. “Follow me, ma’am.”

*

“Talk to Leon so we can get you some better stim toys. I don’t want you chipping your teeth, young man.” 

Elliot ducked his head, rubbing the back of his neck. “Leon’s the expert?”

“Leon’s the expert. Especially when it comes to the little ones you keep in your hands. Ah, Leon, your timing is impeccable.”

Leon waved, running up the hall to meet them. “Krista was looking for you.”

She rounded the corner, looking a bit out of breath.

“Leon, no running in the halls. Sorry, darling.”

“It’s okay. He’s very funny,” Krista said with a tired smile. “I’m sorry I couldn’t take pictures. Ms. Moss and Mrs. Wellick were very passionate in conveying your vision, as was Leon, here.”

“Oh, of course.” White Rose smiled. “They’re good kids, aren’t they?”

“Yes, they really are. Elliot, right?”

“Uh-huh.”

“I heard a lot about you in our chat.”

“Uh.” Leon snickered, putting his hands on Elliot’s hip bones. “Sorry.”

“Quite alright.” 

“Actually, I have a great picture of the two of them. Elliot, how do I get it again?”

“Go to your photos. You downloaded it, so it should be saved in an album.”

“There it is. Can we make it so you don’t have to zoom in on it?”

“We can crop it, if you’d like,” Krista said, doing a good job of stifling her giggles.

“Good. I’ll figure out how to send it to you. Lovely to see you, Krista.”

“You too. Nice to meet you, Elliot, and you too, Leon.”

“See ya,” Leon said, preoccupied with tapping the key chain hanging out of Elliot’s mouth. “Parting is such sweet sorrow.”

*

The next day called for an artistic meeting, to which Phillip, Susan, Leon, and, surprisingly, Elliot was invited. Leon was rather pleased with that decision. At least he’d have something nice to look at.

“Alright, folks, we’re here to talk about Judas’ death.”

Leon raised his hand. “Why is Anas here?”

Phillip gave him a tight smile. “Ms. Jacobs is my new assistant, and will provide her invaluable insight for these decisions.”

“Great.”

Elliot stared at her. She looked really familiar.

“Alright, I have three ideas. It all depends on how contemporary we’d like to make this adaptation. First, we have the concept of Judas bringing a gun onstage.”

Susan shot Phillip a look.

“Second, we have Judas using the traditional noose. Third, he uses the chain from his costume in place of rope.”

“Nice,” Leon said. Elliot shifted, realizing he’d have to watch that every night. “I’m digging the chain or the gun. But, like, imagine me fumbling with my belt onstage while cradling Jesus’ jacket. I feel like that could be taken badly.”

Elliot snorted, and then choked. Susan looked scandalized. White Rose was unfazed.

“Either way, we’ll have a blue out at the guitar solo so you get up the stairs and the ensemble can enter. Then, of course, blackout at the death.”

“The noose would draw contrast.

A traditional death in contemporary clothes.” Susan said, shrugging. 

“With the gun, we’d have an interesting parallel between Jesus being dragged offstage for the arrest and Judas’ corpse being dragged offstage for a burial.”

Elliot squirmed. Leon was gonna be dragged off?

“We can still have that with the hanging.”

“True, but we’d have to have a moment where he’s cut down.”

“We’d have to pick up the gun, too, and the jacket either way.”

“The jacket could be left onstage.”

“Doesn’t Herod take the platform?”

“That comes before.”

“Right, right. Who takes it next? Jesus?”

“We might have the crucifixion be on the mainstage, I haven’t decided.”

“Didn’t someone actually die from the hanging?” Leon asked. “Didn’t something happen with the safety harness?”

“Yeah, in ‘97.” White Rose chewed on her pen. “That might be fresh in the audience's mind.”

“For better or for worse, it’ll have quite the effect,” Phillip said.

“We could just do the silhouette,” Susan interjected. White Rose shook her head.

“Everyone does that. I’m leaning towards the gun. Jesus’ prop will be contemporary as well, it might be fun.”

“What is it?”

“The crown of thorns will be made of barbed wire, or Jesus will die on a chain link fence.”

“Shit.”

Elliot squeezed Leon’s arm, trying not to whine.

“Cuz, we’re not really gonna die.”

“But I don’t want to watch you  _ hang _ yourself.”

Leon made a breathy little noise in the back of his throat, throwing an arm around Elliot’s shoulders. “Hey. It’ll be fine.”

“What if the harness breaks, or whatever?” Elliot snuggled into his side, his voice muffled. 

“I think we’re doing the gun, cuz. Just a little prop.” He gave White Rose a steely look, and she nodded.

“Gun it is. I was leaning that way myself. Chain link fence or crucifixion?”

“We can’t change the crucifixion. No way,” Susan said, shaking her head.

“Godspell does it. Besides, contemporary.” 

“Elliot?”

“Mm? Uh.” He snapped out of his thoughts, having forgotten anyone existed but him and Leon. “I like the fence. I can’t pretend to be an artistic director, but it seems intimate. Downstage, right in the audience's faces. I dunno,” he added, seeing Susan’s look of disgust. “It’s up to you.”

Leon squeezed him. “I just realized I’m gonna have to watch you do that.”

“You said it yourself: we’re not really gonna die.”

Leon scoffed. “Yeah, well. It’s different when it’s you.”

“Different how?” 

Leon flushed. “Nothing.”

“You see that?” Phillip pointed. “Why can’t you have that chemistry with Ollie?”

White Rose rolled her eyes. Leon scoffed.

“Uh. ‘Cause Elliot’s actually cute?”

“ _ Leon. _ ”

“I mean, Ollie should start by actually showing up to these meetings. Where is he?”

Phillip’s lip curled. “At an audition.”

“Yikes.”

“Mm.”

*

“Leon, you just saw Ollie dragged off to his death. You saw a crowd scream in his face. You saw the same people who were singing his praises mocking at him and spitting at him. How do you feel?”

Leon shrugged. “Eh.”

“Okay, imagine it’s Elliot.”

“Oh.”

Leon felt his skin crawl.

“You’ve been his friend, maybe his lover,” White Rose said quietly. “You protected him at the temple. You sang with him in the face of Caiaphas. You’ve been there for every triumph, every failure. And you’ve sent him to his death.”

A heavy silence filled the theatre. Leon avoided Elliot’s eyes.

“Take your time, perform it as you will. But by the end, you have to end up on that platform, and you have to die. Are you ready?”

Leon had almost forgotten what it was like to have her do that, to have her lay out the world at your feet and ask if you were willing to take it.

He nodded.

*

When Elliot was ten, he went on a school field trip to see the touring cast of Beauty and the Beast. That was the show that got him into musical theatre, so to speak. 

Somewhere around Be Our Guest, Elliot had been swept up into the show, was so overjoyed and overwhelmed that he forgot himself in his excitement. He had started chewing on his sleeve out of joy, and the other kids felt the same exact way.

That’s what drew him into theatre. The ability to forget yourself. The ability to hold an audience in your hand and tell them a story.

Elliot felt his jaw clenching, tears dripping down his face. Judas had his jacket held close to his chest in one hand, a gun in his other.

_ No, I’m right here!  _ He wanted to say.  _ I’m okay!  _

Judas let the jacket fall as the ensemble paced onstage, entranced. Somewhere very far away, the music built. Judas raised his gun to his mouth -

A gunshot.

Elliot wailed, wrapping his arms around his head and rocking. 

*

Leon stumbled down the stairs, not thinking of the ensemble members who jumped out of the way, or the gun he had dropped.

“Cut the track, please,” White Rose yelled. “Darlene, the  _ track _ .”

It stopped. It all stopped.

“Cuz,” Leon said in a strangled voice. If he talked, he was gonna burst into tears. “You alright?”

Elliot clung to him, sending them both to the floor. Elliot was shaking his head, almost thrashing back and forth. “Cuz,  _ babe _ . We’re okay.”

He kissed the crown of Elliot’s head, over and over. “We’re okay. We’re okay.”

*

White Rose banished them to the costume den. Romero had supplied them with a thick, warm piece of fabric from somewhere on the costume rack, and left the two of them to cry it out.

Leon was squeezing Elliot as hard as he could, rocking them slowly.

“Elliot?”

“Mm?”

“You good?”

“Mm.” He shook his head. “You?”

“I don’t wanna let go of you.”

“Okay.”

Elliot nuzzled into Leon’s chest, smelling his weird deodorant and sweat. It was very grounding.

“I’m sorry I interrupted everything. And got you in trouble.”

Leon hummed. “Who gives a shit. I was about to have a meltdown too. Hell, I did. I haven’t cried like that in a while.” He sniffed, adjusting Elliot’s position in his lap. 

“You’re a really good actor. I was, uh, right there with you.”

“Thank you.”

Were the pauses getting awkward, or was it just Elliot? He squirmed slightly, feeling as though he had forgotten a line.

“I think it’s because I didn’t want you to die. You’re pretty cool.”

Leon laughed, a little watery. “Thanks, cuz. You’re not too bad yourself.”

Elliot scrunched up his face in thought. “No… it’s because… why did it make me cry?”

He sat up in Leon’s lap, holding Leon’s face in his hands. “It’s because I like you. And, and because you’re…”

Leon ran his hands up and down Elliot’s sides, waiting for him to finish his sentence.

“Because you’re my best friend.”

“...yeah. Me too, man.” Leon smiled, a little strained. Did Elliot say the right thing? “C’mon. We better get back in there.”

“Leon?”

“C’mon.”

*

Well. That was about as clear as Leon was gonna get it. 

“Leon? You alright, dear?”

“Uh-huh, Mama.”

“You sure?”

“Yes, Mama.”

He hoped she would just drop it.

“It’s just, the last time you baked three different types of cookies was when Gabriel Colla broke up with you Senior year.”

“Mama. It’s fine. Really.”

He stirred the dough so hard that half of it went out on the floor. Oops.

“Baby,” she sighed. “It didn’t work out, huh?”

Leon stared at the flour on his foot, shaking his head in silence.

“Oh, Leon.” She hugged him from behind, squeezing him like she could keep him from all the heartache in the world. “I’m sorry, baby.”

“Me too.”


	7. Chapter 7

“Hello, Elliot.”

Elliot blinked. “Hi, uh. Um.”

“Tyrell.”

“Tyrell! Sorry.”

He smiled, a bit eerily. “How are things with you and Leon?”

“Uh? He’s. Um. It’s good.”

“You gave us all a fright the other day.” Elliot flushed. 

“But he’s just a friend?”

“Uh. Yeah. I like him a lot, so I freaked out watching him, you know?”

“Of course. You’re a very empathetic boy, Elliot. It’s sweet.” He brushed Elliot’s cheek with his thumb, as though Elliot was a pet. “Very sweet. Would you like to have drinks after rehearsal?”

Elliot froze, completely lost. “But I don’t know you.”

Tyrell chuckled. “I’d love to get to know you. Let’s meet outside the theatre, hm?”

“Can Leon come?”

Tyrell’s thumb brushed over Elliot’s lips. “I was hoping it’d be just the two of us.”

“I don’t get it.”

“Elliot. _ _ I think you’re a very attractive man. I want to get drinks with you, especially now that you’re single.”

“Oh.” Wait. “What?”

“7:30, tonight?”

“You’re married,” Elliot said faintly.

Tyrell chuckled, leaning in until their lips were almost touching. “You’d be surprised how little that matters.”

“Hey, Elliot.” 

Elliot whipped his head around to see Leon. His hands were in his pockets, and he was glowering at Tyrell. He looked gorgeous.

“Ollie ain’t here. You’re up.”

“Okay.” Elliot moved to stand. Tyrell grabbed his wrist.

“So that’s a yes?”

His hand squeezed. Elliot squirmed. “No, that’s a - that  _ hurts _ , Tyrell.”

In a flash, Leon was cradling him, and Tyrell was clutching his arm. “Ow! Shit.”

“Let’s go, Elliot.”

“That was assault! I’ll sue you if -”

Leon dragged Elliot out of the room. 

“Asshole.”

*

Ollie was, in fact, at rehearsal. Leon just coughed and apologized.

“Coulda sworn… whatever. Guess you’re on the sidelines again.”

Elliot shrugged. “I don’t mind. I get to watch you.” 

Leon grinned. “Come again?”

“I mean - it’s fun to watch! Fun.” Elliot covered his face with his hands while Leon laughed. 

“Okay! Gather around, kids!” Trenton yelled. She was becoming quite good at yelling. Darlene had her chin in her hands and an impossibly fond smile on her face. “White Rose has stuff to say. Ollie, that means shut up.”

“Well, kids, the time has come for hell week. Don’t whine. Don’t groan. I’ve slept at the theatre twice this week. Tomorrow is a full tech run through, then in full costume, then we add props. Up until previews and opening night, I want a run of this show five days a week. Is that clear?”

Ollie was brave enough to groan.

“That doesn’t include leads, who I will need six days a week for interviews and photos. Quiet, Ollie. I really don’t care.”

The company laughed. Phillip coughed, not bothering to get up.

“Four practice performances a week will be for the designated cast, while the swings will have one performance a week. I would still like all swings present and ready to take notes and change their performance. Yes? Good. Sound?”

“Ready!” Darlene shouted.

“Lights?”

“Yep,” Cisco drawled. Elliot jumped, having never heard his voice that close.

“Props are set. We run in forty-five minutes - get in makeup, at least. Break.”

The actors scattered, chattering and stretching. Leon gave Elliot a forlorn look and went to the backstage area. Even Romero was getting up to follow them.

“Elliot,” White Rose said, snapping her fingers. “Sit by me. I want to see your notes and make sure you’re ready.”

“Okay,” Elliot said. He felt very lonely, all of a sudden. “Be right there.”

*

Elliot could only sit and stare.  _ Here it is. _

True, part of the set was still drying, and one of the backdrop cues had come in late, but still. It was  _ real. _

“Wait until we have the orchestra,” White Rose whispered. “That’ll knock you flat.” Even she seemed excited. Phillip sat forward. Elliot grinned, flapping one of his hands. Judas was gonna come onstage any second.

“Stop, stop!” 

The sound cut. Elliot covered his face, mortified. 

Leon had taken a step out onto the turntable and fallen flat on his face.

“Leon?”

Leon raised a thumbs up from his place on the floor. The younger members of the company tittered from their place in the wings. Phillip seethed.

“One more time, if you would…”

*

This was just like high school. Tripping in front of the cute boy. Leon sighed through his embarrassment, patting down his mic tape. Whatever. This time, for sure.

*

“No, stop. Stop!” The sound cut. “What -? What’s this?” Phillip mimed waving his hands. “What’s that? Were you doing that in rehearsal?”

Phillip had begun pacing in front of the stage. Trenton stood.

“Is there something  _ wrong  _ with my choreography?”

“I wasn’t consulted on this! When was it added?”

“Two days ago.”

“It doesn’t make any sense.”

“Blood,” White Rose said. “There’s blood on his hands. He’s trying to get it off.”

Elliot blinked. Leon had been stimming to the beat of the music. It made Elliot happy because. Well. Leon, and stimming. “Sit down, Phillip.”

He did, still an unflattering shade of fuschia. There was an uncomfortable silence.

“Should I go again?” Leon asked, pointing offstage.

“Encore!” Angela shouted. The company laughed, glad for the break in tension.

“Sorry, Leon. Once more.”

*

_ This is going better,  _ Elliot thought. And then just,  _ wow _ .

Leon was intense on stage. That was the only word to describe it. The opening song was essentially a plea to Jesus (and to the audience) for forgiveness and understanding, while retaining a strange sense of superiority. Leon would stare at his hands, as though he could see blood dripping down his fingers. Then he would look somewhere above the audience, enraged. The black and red lights cast him in a frightening shadow.

Elliot was frozen in his seat. Leon wasn’t mad at  _ him,  _ right?

White Rose laughed quietly. “He’s a firecracker onstage. I love working with him.” Elliot couldn’t see her face, in the darkness of the theatre. “You’re perfect for one another.”

Elliot’s ears burned, but he didn’t feel nervous. “Yeah,” he said. “That’s true.”

*

It was like a splash of cold water when the apostles danced their way onstage. The lights were abruptly yellow and bright. Elliot blinked, and realized White Rose looked rather smug. That was exactly what she intended.

“Time shift. Good?”

Elliot nodded, speechless.

“Good.” 

Ollie stormed on stage, white robe fluttering behind him. He looked otherworldly among the jeans and jackets of the apostles. Phillip hummed in approval. Elliot squinted, not quite able to see it.

“Why should you want to know?” Elliot winced, clapping his hands over his ears. White Rose cringed backwards, and Phillip winced. 

“Down! Down! Levels down!” 

Ollie’s voice was shrieking throughout the theatre, completely drowning out the track and ensemble. Worse, he was slightly off-tempo. 

“That’s what happens when you don’t try during mic checks,” White Rose yelled. “Darlene, please - ! Thank you.” 

Elliot (and a few of the apostles) sighed with relief. 

Ollie stammered, having lost his place in the song. Elliot mouthed the words, trying to get his attention. White Rose let her head fall in her hands.

“Elliot, if you would?”

“If you knew the path we’re riding.” Elliot shouted at the stage, not bothering to sing it. Ollie snapped his fingers, nodding, and resumed the scene.

“Oh, boy.”

“Keep it going. It’ll get better.”

Angela rushed onstage to join Ollie, who had forgotten the new blocking where Angela entered from the other side of the stage. He looked around for her wildly, before backing into her and sending her off the turntable.

“Oh,  _ boy. _ ”

*

After an incredibly awkward rendition of ‘Everything’s Alright’, they moved onto Leon’s personal favorite song: ‘This Jesus Must Die’.

He clasped Romero’s hand as he exited, giving the older man a significant glance. This was Romero’s first time on stage after fifteen years.

Romero scoffed, rolling his neck. Tyrell and Susan followed close behind him, not even nodding to Leon.

“Break a leg,” he whispered, staring after Tyrell. “Fucking snap it right off.”

*

Holy shit. Romero’s voice was  _ thunderous _ . 

White Rose and Elliot shared a brief moment of pure excitement once he opened his mouth. His voice rumbled throughout the aisles in sharp contrast to Susan and Tyrell’s light, lyrical voices. Phillip didn’t like it.

“Down,” he called up to Darlene. “Turn his mic down. More.” 

Caiaphas’ volume didn’t seem to change. “More!”

“He isn’t wearing a mic, man.”

What? Elliot whipped around to stare at the stage. Romero was almost smirking, effortlessly projecting his deep, bass notes.

“It kept fritzing when we put it on him. We gave his mic to Scott, remember?”

Phillip stared at the stage, slack-jawed. “Alright,” he managed. “Keep it going.”

*

Hosanna was a mess.

“Tendu, and up, and - no, Ollie!” Trenton had stood up and was screaming at the stage. “ _ One  _ two-three  _ four  _ five-six! No, stay in the middle.”

“Stop, stop!” Phillip yelled, cutting the music. Phillip turned to Elliot, a murderous expression on his face. Elliot would have jumped out of his chair, had White Rose not been gripping his shoulder.

“Yes, Phillip?” she asked sweetly.

“Did you give him the notes on this blocking or purposefully fuck him up?”

“H-he never asked for them,” Elliot said, trembling. 

“I’ve run this with  _ him _ twice as much as I’ve run it with Elliot,” Trenton said, her head in her hands. “It’s an Ollie problem.”

Phillip huffed, pacing once more. “We don’t have time for this. You’re going to have to change the choreography to make it easier for him. Can you do that?” he asked, almost mockingly.

“Of course. My bad. I thought a guy whose resume said he had four years of ballet would know how to step and turn. My mistake.” 

Leon, who was backstage, practically fell over. Angela snapped her fingers.

“Man, don’t fuck with Trenton.”

“Quiet backstage!” 

“Sorry.”

*

Simon's number wasn’t much better.

“Good. Good,” Phillip muttered to himself, his chin resting on his hand. Elliot couldn’t agree with him. Maybe it was because he had spent time opposite Joanna in  _ all  _ of her glory. Elliot remembered her screaming in his face and grabbing his waist. This Joanna was detached, and Simon became almost complacent.

“Interesting,” White Rose whispered. “She’s making sure she doesn’t drown Ollie out.” 

Elliot bit his lip. Was that a good thing? 

‘Poor Jerusalem’ was a relief when it finally came. Though Ollie was disrespectful, clueless, and ultimately a mess, he was obviously confident in the song. 

“He’s a good singer,” Elliot whispered. White Rose sniffed, nodding.

“Yes, I suppose so.” 

Ollie almost tripped off the turntable. He caught himself. Joanna looked almost disappointed as she exited. 

“Good. Good!” Phillip stood, clapping. “Very good.” 

*

‘Pilate’s Dream’ was  _ so fucking boring _ . Leon was fiddling with his prop, wishing he had brought a stim toy.  _ Ugh. _

Tyrell… had a good stage presence. He really did. His voice was haunting, his accent pulling his vowels strangely. But  _ God. _ Leon was bored.

“He’s pretty good,” Angela whispered. Leon scoffed. 

“What’s up?”

“He asked Elliot out. He’s been creeping on him.”

“Oh.” Angela peered out on the stage, where Tyrell was gesticulating grandly. “Well. He sucks, then.”

“Yeah.”

“What the hell is he doing with his hands?”

“No clue.”

*

Elliot squirmed in his chair. Tyrell kept catching his eye.

White Rose hummed, perhaps in approval. “He does engage an audience.”

“Or it’s just Elliot,” Phillip muttered, his arms crossed. 

“Huh?” Elliot said, his fingers drifting to his mouth. 

“Nothing.”

Tyrell stared at Elliot as his song ended, out of breath and dazed. Elliot rubbed his head, very uncomfortable.

“Uh. Hey,” he called to the stage. White Rose and Leon burst into laughter.

*

Elliot stared at the stage in shock. Trenton was on her feet, clapping and shrieking. ‘The Temple’ was  _ amazing. _

Trenton’s choreography had the entire stage swarmed with people. It began as clean and simple, before devolving into a frenzy. 

White Rose and Phillip occasionally looked at each other, before nodding and taking furious notes.

Holy shit. 

The only thing that could have made it better was Leon.

*

Angela hated this damn song. She paced to the center of the turntable, looking longingly after Ollie and fighting the urge to puke. 

Elliot was biting his knuckle as he watched, and Angela knew he was fighting the urge to laugh. She tried her best to glare at him through her ingenue-soprano posturing. 

Thank God it was short.

She exited, clasping Leon’s hand as he made his entrance. That’d wipe the smirk off Elliot’s face. 

Darlene was waiting for her in the wings, reaching for her mic. “We’re stopping at Act 1 today.” Darlene sighed. “How’s Elliot doing?”

“He laughed at my song. And was making moon eyes at Leon.”

“So, normal, then?”

“Pretty much.”

*

Act 1 ended with a bang. Leon cracked his knuckles, waiting for his cue. 

Alright. This was it. He could writhe around onstage in tight black clothes and hopefully make Elliot blush. Or something. 

Cisco waved him on. Fuck yeah.

*

“He should look a little less happy to be betraying Jesus.”

White Rose shrugged. “The energy is good.”

Elliot was trying not to melt in his seat, his mouth hanging open. Leon was running around the stage like a rock star. When the weird saxophone solo hit, Leon dropped to the floor at the edge of the stage, running his hands up his thighs and throwing his head back. Elliot supposed this was supposed to look like the agony of betraying a loved one. It looked like something else entirely.

“Oh my God,” Elliot said, his hands over his mouth. 

“A little less, Leon!”

Leon winked at Elliot, who swore his face was on fire. He licked his lips before running his hands through his hair, revealing the long lines of his neck and the bulge of his biceps.

“That’s the opposite of less, Leon!” White Rose yelled. Phillip had his head in his hands. 

Finally, Romero, Tyrell, and Susan entered. Romero was failing to hide his amusement, and Tyrell was bright red. 

“We need information,” he sang, a beat late. “Get up off the floor.”

White Rose burst into laughter, along with the rest of the cast members who snuck into the theatre after their mics were removed. 

“That’s funny. Oh, we have to keep that.”

“Absolutely not!” Phillip shouted, scandalized. 

“Oh, come on. Maybe a  _ little  _ less, but Leon has to milk it. Back me up, Elliot.”

Elliot opened and closed his mouth, looking a bit like a goldfish. Angela and Darlene snickered. 

White Rose looked at Leon, and then back at Elliot. “The two of you are  _ awful _ .”

“Awfully cute!” Leon called from onstage, the song finished. 

“Awful.”

*

“So,” Leon said, sidling up to Elliot. “What did you think?”

Elliot flushed, refusing to look at him. “It was okay.”

“Uh-huh. What about my song?”

Elliot stared at his shoes. “Maybe you should ask Romero if the pants could be less tight.”

“Oh, hell no.” Leon leaned down, waving his hand in front of Elliot’s sight. “That’s the best part.”

Elliot bit his lip against his giggles. Darlene said his laugh was scary. Leon pulled him into a hug, smiling into Elliot’s hair. He smelled like sweat and dust. Elliot snuggled in closer, sighing. 

“But it was okay?” Leon asked. His lips felt nice against Elliot’s head.

“Uh-huh.”

“Good. I got worried when you put your hands over your face.”

Elliot groaned. “It  _ was  _ really cool.”

“Nice. I was, I dunno,” Leon smiled, pulling back to cup Elliot’s face. “I was hoping I’d impress you. Was kinda scared I didn’t.”

Elliot wasn’t sure where to put his hands, especially when Leon stared at him like that. He settled for Leon’s shoulders, his face growing warm. 

“You really care that much about what I think?”

“Is that surprising?” Leon huffed out a laugh, ducking his head. Elliot felt tongue-tied at how  _ precious  _ Leon suddenly was.

“Yeah. You’re so confident onstage.” Elliot ran his fingers down Leon’s arms absentmindedly, missing how Leon’s breathing hitched. “I wish I was like that.”

“Elliot…” Now it was Leon’s turn to blush. Elliot felt a bit smug at that. His eyes slid shut as he leaned in towards Elliot. Elliot froze, feeling Leon’s lips brush the corner of his mouth. Leon made a little breathless noise, clutching at Elliot’s waist. 

Elliot pressed his mouth to Leon’s cheek, holding himself there and breathing Leon in. 

“Uh.”

Leon squeezed him tight. “Hey. Sorry.”

“No, I… hey.” Elliot blushed, hiding his face in Leon’s neck. Leon laughed, a tad hysteric. 

“Post-rehearsal adrenaline?”

“Post-rehearsal adrenaline.”

Elliot didn’t let go, though. Neither did Leon.


	8. Chapter 8

“So.”

“So.” 

Trenton nodded sagely. Leon took a sip of tea. They managed to hold a respectable silence for about fifteen seconds before bursting into laughter.

“Wow. Wow, wow, wow.” Trenton shook her head. “You really have the hots for Jesus.”

Leon groaned, his face red.

“I can’t believe I pretty much kissed him.”

“No ‘pretty much’ about it. That was a kiss.”

“God,” Leon moaned. “And he’s still oblivious.”

“I think it’s cute.” Trenton sipped at her ramen, pulling her legs up so she was sitting in a full lotus on the craft table. Leon envied her flexibility. “Very cute. Darlene won’t shut up about it.”

“Darlene won’t shut up about anything.” Trenton threw a swatch of fabric at him.

“That’s my girl you’re talking about. Also, an accurate assessment.”

Romero ambled in, shedding his thick cloak. “Hey, feet off the table, Missy.”

“Perhaps Caiaphas will have a tap solo.”

“Trenton.”

“Hm. I’m thinking full on Barkley.”

Romero sighed, throwing his costume at her. 

“Well, old man, that’s one hell of a voice you’ve got,” Leon said, leaning back on the table.

Romero chuckled. “I try. What’s going on with you whippersnappers?”

“Leon’s totally in love with Elliot.”

“What else is new?”

“Leon kissed him.”

“Yeah, he does that every run-through.”

“ _ Romero _ ,” Trenton searched for something to throw at him. Clearly, Darlene was rubbing off on her. “You’re the worst.”

“Eh.”

Elliot shuffled in, saw Leon, turned red, and stared at the floor. 

“Hey, kid,” Romero said. “Everything alright?”

“Leon?”

“Yeah?” Leon said, unable to catch his breath.

“Um… White Rose wants to see you.”

With that, Elliot ran off. Leon let out an explosive sigh. 

“Oh, dear,” Romero said.

“Exactly. This is why you never have a relationship in a show.”

“Pot, kettle, my dear.”

“I’m gonna die,” Leon said, and fell over on the floor.

*

“You wanted to see me?”

White Rose looked up from her iPad. “I did?”

“Elliot just… he just grabbed me.”

“I didn’t ask him to.”

“Oh.”

Leon’s face flushed. White Rose narrowed her eyes. “This isn’t going to be a problem, right?”

“Of course not.”

White Rose raised an eyebrow. 

“I mean. Probably not.”

“You inspire great confidence. I suppose I did have something to ask you.” She gestured to the chair opposite her. Leon sat, feeling like a science experiment. “Was that performance today for our benefit or Elliot’s?”

“Why do you ask?” Leon was impressed with how steady his voice was.

“It seemed out of place in a run-through with Ollie.”

Leon groaned. “Yeah. I guess I didn’t think about that.”

“Personally, I thought it was so cheesy it was funny. However, it’ll probably only work on a run-through with Elliot, where that tension and energy is already present. That’s all.”

Leon blinked. “I totally improvised an entire song.”

“It was good.”

“I changed your blocking and challenged your artistic vision!”

“Eh.” She gracefully shrugged one shoulder. “Why, do you want me to be mad at you?”

“No.”

“Then it’s settled. And Leon?”

“Yeah?”

“Please ask him out sooner rather than later. For your sake and mine.”

Leon flushed. “Noted.”

*

“Circle up, folks,” Phillip called.

Weeks of rehearsal had flown by. Elliot shifted, feeling out of place in the circle of performers who were going onstage tonight. 

“We have one preview. The audience will be mostly reporters, bloggers, and financial backers.”

White Rose raised her hand. “That means they’re my friends. Please make me look good.”

There were some anxious giggles. Leon caught Elliot’s eye, smiling. 

“The audience will be informed that it’s more of a final dress than anything. They’ll have a questionnaire and will most certainly spread the word, like it or hate it. We have one interview before the show, and then it’s go time.”

Leon raised his hand. “Is it Krista?”

“No. Some Broadway blogger who writes for Time-Out. Ms. Gordon will be present for the performance, though. Any other questions? Good.” He shuffled some papers. White Rose cleared her throat. 

“Phillip and I have been talking. After tonight’s preview, there will be no rehearsal tomorrow before opening night.”

The cast exploded, raising their hands and chattering. Angela gasped. “Are you kidding me? We need as much rehearsal as we can get!”

“Quiet, quiet.” White Rose raised both her hands. “One run won’t make the difference between a flop and a hit. We’re all exhausted, and we need energy for the public. Who knows. A day of rest, and maybe Leon will remember his blocking for the kiss instead of winging it every time.”

“Aw, fuck off.” 

The cast laughed, a bit more genuine this time. White Rose gave him a smile. 

“One preview tonight. Then we break until opening. Yes, Elliot?”

“What if, um…” He’d never get used to everyone looking at him when he asked a question. Even Phillip raised his eyebrows at him. “What if the preview doesn’t…” He broke off, looking at his feet. He forgot his line. White Rose, thankfully, understood what he was asking.

“If it’s shit, it’s shit. What’s that they say? Bad dress, good opening.”

A couple of the ensemble cheered, as did Trenton and Darlene. 

“Get in costume and get on mics. Understudies, you’re banished backstage. The blogger is coming in,” She checked her ornate watch. Elliot was pretty sure Romero got it for her. “Fifty-six minutes and thirty-three seconds. Leads, be ready by then. That includes you, Elliot.”

Elliot jumped, having almost escaped the theatre. “Okay.”

*

Elliot was never gonna get used to seeing Leon in costume. “What was that?”

Leon laughed, flexing. “Interviewer’s here. C’mon.”

Elliot grabbed his hand, and they walked in companionable silence to the press room. 

“Hey,” Leon said, stopping in the hallway. He leaned a shoulder against the wall and put his hand on Elliot’s shoulder. “Are we okay?”

“What do you mean?”

“Like, we’re good, right?” Leon searched his face. “You’re my best friend, man. I know things have been awkward between us for the past few weeks, so I just thought… I dunno.”

Elliot smiled, a very small, pathetic thing. “I’m okay with things being awkward between us. Just as long as there’s something between us.”

Leon nodded, smiling. “Okay.”

He squeezed his shoulder. It felt weird. Elliot decided to pull him into a hug, instead. Leon sighed, grateful. He let his arms drape around Elliot’s shoulders. Elliot squeezed around his waist, careful of his mic pack. Leon’s breath was warm and steady against Elliot’s cheek. Their foreheads fell together, absent from anything else in the world.

“Well, well, well.” 

There came a voice from somewhere behind them, heavy with years of cigarettes. Elliot smelt ash and singed paper.

“I don’t think you can smoke in here, Carla.” Elliot watched Leon’s lips move. It was nice. “Wait. Carla? What are you doing here?”

“I’m writing an article. It’s gonna be cool. Also, you’re late.”

Leon let go of Elliot reluctantly. “C’mon, cutie. Let’s get in there.”

*

Elliot fiddled with his water bottle. The rest of the cast wasn’t there yet, so Leon had made introductions and ran off to grab them. Carla was staring at him and scribbling things. Elliot cleared his throat.

“Hey,” Elliot said.

“Hey.” She smiled. 

“You and Leon know each other?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Oh. That’s nice.”

“Yeah.” 

Another bit of silence. Elliot tried to open the water bottle. He was unsuccessful. 

“You don’t talk much, huh?”

Elliot shook his head. “I don’t really like to, no.”

She nodded. “That’s cool. Can I do yes or no questions?”

“Yeah.” Elliot nodded, turning to her for the first time. “Yeah. Thanks.”

Carla shrugged. “Leon’ll talk enough for the both of you. Give me that.”

Elliot slid the bottle over to her. She twisted it. And twisted it. And twisted it.

She blinked. “Shit, that’s really stuck.”

“Uh-huh.”

*

After the rest of the leads had arrived, (and Romero opened the bottle after Leon’s failure) the interview could begin.

Carla lit a candle before turning on her recorder. Joanna gave her an odd look. Carla shrugged. 

“I like it. It smells nice. So. Tell me about the show.”

*

Leon was grateful for the candle. He could at least watch the flame flicker and the smoke curl while Ollie made a grand speech about his character. A glance around the room showed that Romero and Angela had picked up the technique as well. Leon wondered if he could stick some pieces of paper in it. 

“So. Do you portray Judas and Jesus as having a relationship?”

Ollie spluttered, having been interrupted in his exhausting description of his contributions to costuming. “I’m sorry, what? What kind of question is that?” He laughed nervously, looking at Phillip. 

“A very fair one. Many productions have explored this relationship, and I was wondering if you did as well. Leon?”

Leon sat up. “Well, from my side, hell yeah. Judas is totally into Jesus. He’s the only one who sees him as human.”

“Some might call that irreligious, especially with Judas’ sympathetic characterization.”

Leon shrugged. “I dunno. I’m not gonna pretend to be a religious expert, you know?”

“Yep. Does this relationship come easily between you and Mr. Parker?” 

Leon laughed. “Nah.” 

Carla nodded, a glint in her eye. “So where does your passion come from? I’ve heard you portray the role differently actor to actor.”

Elliot froze. “Uh.”

Phillip waved his hands. “Rumors, rumors. I don’t feel as though these are important questions in relation to the show.”

“I’m kind of disappointed you don’t respect my skills as a reporter.” She gave him a pointed glare. Phillip’s jaw snapped shut. White Rose leaned forward in her seat, wide-eyed and smiling. “I believe that’s quite an important question. This cast is different. You have a transgender actor playing Judas, not to mention a transgender man of color. That’s fucking awesome, pardon my French, and that’s what a lot of the Broadway community cares about: expanding roles and horizons - especially after Hamilton.”

Leon raised his hand. “And Judas having the hots for Jesus helps that?”

Carla shrugged. This was way too fun. “What do you think?”

There was a bit of a silence. Leon glanced at White Rose. She nodded.

“Well, as a queer actor of color, yeah.” Leon shrugged. “I think it’s cool. We need more representation, and it’s  _ theatre _ . Broadway should have had a trans, gay Judas way before I came along.”

Carla nodded. “Is it true that you perform differently with Elliot?”

“Yeah.”

Phillip interrupted the two of them, raising a finger. “Every cast will be slightly different. Elliot’s interpretation of Jesus will undoubtedly be different than Ollie’s.”

“That’s very true. Elliot, is your Jesus in love with Judas?”

Elliot was grateful for the yes-no question. He nodded. 

“Dope. Moving on to costuming. Romero, is it true you’re the costumer as well as Caiaphas?”

Romero blinked, obviously surprised at the change in tone. “Well, yes.”

Leon clutched Elliot’s hand under the table, smiling at him. 

Good old Carla. She was always cool.

*

Elliot and Leon were bustled out of the press room as call time neared. Leon didn’t miss how Ollie wouldn’t look at him. Yikes. This would make performing interesting. Carla had (as was her nature) left no stone unturned, without much care for comfort. Well, she was sweet to Elliot. It was hard not to be. She had asked him about being of Egyptian descent and how that affected his career. Elliot quietly spoke about being an autistic performer as well, so unashamed that Leon fell even more in love with him right there. He stared at Elliot, helpless.

“Leon?” Elliot said. “You good?”

“Yeah, cuz. Never better.” 

Elliot smiled up at him, leaving Leon breathless. He loved that shy, tiny smile. It was like one of the sprouts in his Mama’s window garden. He wanted to watch it grow.

“Hey.” Carla hugged Leon around the middle. Leon laughed, rocking her from side to side.

“Hey. I miss braiding your hair. It’s way longer now!”

“Yep.” She grinned. “All the way to my butt. I’m sorry if I scared you during my interview, Elliot.”

Elliot blinked. “You’re good. I was hoping it wouldn’t just be Ollie talking.”

Carla laughed. “Yeah, I had to spice things up. Quick question, um…” She hesitated. “I don’t know how to ask this. Uh.”

“C’mon, Miss Interviewer. You got this.”

She snorted. “Um. On the topic of diversity in Broadway performers, could I touch on the two of you as autistic men of color? Would that be okay?”

“Mm-hm.” Elliot snuggled into Leon’s arm. Leon hesitated. 

“What the hell. Go for it, cutie.”

“Sweet. Elliot, can I have a hug?”

Elliot shook his head. 

“Shoulder clasp?”

He nodded. Carla patted his back for good measure. “It was great to meet you, Elliot. Y’all are a cute couple.”

Elliot’s jaw dropped. Leon stuttered, staring at Elliot.

Carla smiled sweetly, flipping her hair over her shoulder. “See you tonight.”

Leon stared after her, finally finding his tongue. “Um. Call time.”

“Right.”

“See you backstage?”

“Uh-huh. Wait.” Elliot cocked his head. “Are we a couple?”

“I dunno. I guess so,” said Leon. He kissed Elliot on the cheek and fled.

*

Darlene walked from actor to actor, adjusting their mic tape as the audience chattered. “Romero’s good, Ollie’s good, Leon,” Darlene stopped. “Leon, are you gonna puke?”

“Uh.”

“Pre-show jitters? You’re gonna be amazing. You always are.”

“Yuh-huh.”

“Dude? Earth to Leon?”

“I told Elliot we were a couple, kissed his cheek, and ran away,” Leon said, dazed. 

“Oh.” Darlene nodded to herself. “Huh. Well, I’ll check up on him and report back.”

Cisco gave her a thumbs up, dimming the lights. Leon gave her a terrified look. 

“You can’t worry about that right now. Go out there and kill it.”

Leon nodded, closing his eyes. “Yeah.”

“Break a leg.”

“Back at you.”

*

Elliot sat in the makeup room with Angela’s swing and Scott, surprisingly enough. He absentmindedly rubbed his cheek. 

“Mr. Alderson?” Elliot’s head snapped up. Scott smiled at him, bright and handsome. “I don’t believe we ever really met. Scott Knowles.”

He gave Elliot a firm handshake, with that annoyingly pretty smile still on his face. “My wife, Sharon.” 

Angela’s understudy. “Oh. Hi.”

She smiled at him, all pearly white teeth. They were a pretty cute couple. “Excited?”

“Uh-huh.” Elliot said. Could they see where Leon kissed him? It felt like it was glowing, like he had a sign over his head that said ‘Clueless.’ “Can I ask you a question?”

“Certainly, my boy.”

“What does it mean if the guy you like kisses you and runs away?”

Sharon and Scott gave him sympathetic looks. “Well…”

*

The preview was. Well. It was shit.

“We are experiencing technical difficulties. We are very sorry for the inconvenience.” 

Cisco had taken the mic. If Darlene had to  make that announcement, she would have screamed. 

She sprinted down to the backstage area, a new mic pack in hand. Ollie had somehow broken his. 

“Ollie!” she hissed, seeing the back of his white robe. Ollie turned around, his face red. He was rubbing at his eyes.

“I’m so sorry, I’m really -”

“Oh, Ollie.”

He burst into tears. Darlene patted his back, stiff. “There, there. Let’s see the damage.” 

Ollie sniffed, removing what was left of his mic pack. Darlene stared at it. It was broken inwards from his fall. Great.

“I have a new one. We’re fine. It wasn’t that noticeable.”

Ollie rubbed his cheeks. “Really?”

“No, it was pretty awful. C’mon, get up. New pack.”

*

Leon and Angela were waiting in the wings. They weren’t even talking. They just kind of looked at each other blankly before shrugging and sighing. 

The audience sounded more confused than angry, which Leon supposed was a good thing. He wondered what Carla thought of him now, what the investors -

oh God. White Rose.

“Don’t freak out,” Angela whispered. Leon whimpered. “Breathe. Breathe. We’re okay. We’re okay.” 

She kept that up until they were cued back onstage. She squeezed his hand before entering.


	9. Chapter 9

Elliot munched on some dried apple chips. They were really yummy. Sharon and Scott were telling stories about working on Sondheim shows, or Man of La Mancha, or Rodgers and Hammerstein. Truth be told, Elliot was having a hard time keeping up. It was entertaining, though.

Elliot cocked his head in the direction of the theatre as Cisco took the mic.

“Technical difficulties? _Again?"_

“Third time in the show.”

Scott waved his hand. “This is nothing. We were in Romeo and Juliet when the theatre lost power! Just like that.”

Sharon laughed, rubbing Scott’s shoulders. “We survived. Reviewers ate it up.”

Elliot hummed, swallowing Sharon’s apple chips. “So, Leon.”

Sharon and Scott, to their credit, didn’t groan.

“He likes me?”

“Yes, child,” Sharon said, shaking her head sadly. “He really, really likes you. Like, a lot.”

“Oh, Elliot. You’re a funny fellow. Do you get that a lot?”

Elliot nodded. “Do you know what’s going on with the show?”

Scott sighed. “Ollie fell onstage and broke his mic pack, Angela skipped a line during her song, and tech is spontaneously combusting.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Plus side, it’s almost intermission. I’m sure it’ll all be fixed by then.”

He took a sip from his fancy bottle, which Elliot was almost certain contained alcohol.

“Okay.”

*

Leon’s meltdown kind of worked for the betrayal scene. He was screaming and crying and terrified the sweet old lady in the third row. He stormed offstage, a thunderous applause at his back.

“Well, how does it feel to save Act 1?” Darlene asked, switching off his mic.

“Awful.” Leon’s voice was very small. “Where’s Elliot?”

“Makeup room, with the Knowleses.”

“Thanks.”

“Are you -?”

Leon ran, for the second time that day. God. He hoped this wouldn’t become a habit.

*

Scott was in the middle of a hilarious story about his time as Jean Valjean when the door was thrown open.

“Leon?”

Leon collapsed in Elliot’s lap, bursting into tears. He rocked himself back and forth, shivering.

Elliot froze, an apple chip halfway to his mouth. He awkwardly set it down on the makeup table, and sank to Leon’s level.

“Leon?”

More sobs. Leon squeezed Elliot’s waist, burying his face in his stomach. Elliot heard the Knowleses shuffle out of the room before shutting the door.

“Oh, Leon…”

Elliot pressed a kiss to the crown of Leon’s head before guiding them both to the floor. Leon made a creaky sort of stimming noise from deep in his chest, thumping his head into Elliot’s chest.

Elliot awkwardly maneuvered them under the table, remembering how Leon hid in the costume den after their first run through. Leon had gone eerily quiet, chest heaving.

Elliot could hear his dad’s voice whispering over the back of his neck. _Not now,_ Elliot thought, squeezing his eyes shut. His mouth opened, his voice not quite his own.

“C’mon, kiddo. You’re okay.” He ran his fingers through Leon’s hair, forcing himself to relax. “You’re okay. Aw, _kiddo_ …”

Leon sat up so he could hug Elliot, humming and rocking. His breathing was evening out.

Elliot could feel himself growing fuzzy, like someone else was taking over.

“I know, I know.” Was that him talking? “C’mon, champ. It’s time to go.”

Darlene was knocking at the door. Intermission was over.

“Atta boy. You’re gonna be great. Okay?”

Leon sniffed, nodding.

Elliot kissed Leon, rubbing his shoulders. “Break a leg, babe,” he whispered.

“Hell yeah,” Leon breathed.

*

“Ow!”

Leon winced as the mic tape was ripped off his neck.

“You gotta do it all at once, kid. Like a bandaid.” Darlene shoved her hand down the back of Leon’s pants, grabbing his mic wire. “Nice job on Act 2.”

“Why, thank you. It was pretty much a Hail Mary.”

“Whatever works. White Rose wants a quick word with the cast, and then you’re free to go.”

“Oh, shit. Is she pissed?”

Darlene shrugged. “I can need tell. By the way,” Darlene jerked her head to the doorway. “Package arrived for you.”

Elliot was leaning against the door frame, squeezed against the wall to stay out of people’s way. He caught Leon’s eye and flushed, rubbing his arms and biting his bottom lip. He looked like a dream come true.

“Hey.”

Leon pulled him into a hug, sighing in bliss. Elliot stood on his tiptoes to kiss the shell of his ear.

“Hey,” he whispered. “Good show.”

Leon snorted. “Something like that. White Rose is calling for a meeting. You in?”

“Yeah. What else could we do?”

Leon cocked his head, a boyish grin on his face. “We could always skip.”

“No way, man.”

“We could go home.” Leon settled his hands on Elliot’s hips. “Watch Seinfeld. Get high. C’mon.”

“Nuh-uh. It’ll be fifteen minutes, tops.”

“Elliot,” Leon whined, snuggling into Elliot’s hoodie. Elliot blushed, slapping at Leon’s biceps.

“Nope. Let’s go.”

They shuffled out of the tech booth, leaving a dazed Darlene and Scott in their wake.

“That was the gayest thing I’ve ever seen.” Darlene said, ripping off Scott’s mic tape.

“Me too, and I’ve worked on Broadway.”

*

“Well, children. That wasn’t as bad as we thought.”

The cast cheered.

“I mean, it wasn’t _good_ , but it wasn’t as bad as we thought.”

The cast groaned. Elliot squeezed Leon’s hand, squirming in his arms.

“You want me to let go?” Leon whispered. Elliot shook his head. He liked squirming.

“However, my statement still stands. We are having a break before opening.”

Angela flopped on the floor, too exhausted to argue. Joanna took her place.

“We need a rehearsal.”

“I disagree. We need to rest.”

Joanna shook her head. “Anyone that wants to run lines, get Tyrell’s phone number.”

Tyrell opened his mouth to protest, but was silenced by his wife’s glare.

“Who thinks we need another rehearsal?” White Rose asked, primly.

“I do,” Angela said, voice muffled. Ollie nodded, looking faintly terrified. Romero shrugged.

“Leon?”

Leon glanced down at Elliot, who fit perfectly in his arms. Elliot stared up at him.

“Nah. I wanna watch TV and eat chips.”

“Can I come?” Elliot whispered, tugging on Leon’s shirt.

“Uh, duh.”

*

Leon’s house was nice. Lots of overstuffed couches, weighted blankets, and knicknacks that Elliot was itching to pick up and fiddle with.

“You have this whole place to yourself?”

“Yep. Me and my mama.” Leon had a fond smile on his face. “She’s cool. I can’t wait for you to meet her. She’s staying with a friend tonight.”

“Oh. I didn’t mean to…”

“Run her out? Nah, it’s all good. She’s got work tomorrow in Jersey, she was gonna stay there anyway. Speaking of…”

Elliot heard footsteps on the stairs, along with the yowl of a cat.

Down came a gorgeous woman with bright purple lipstick and a museum uniform on. Elliot knew she had to be older than them, but she seemed bright and full of energy.

“I’m off baby, you and your boy - oh!” She stopped at the bottom of the stairs, a fat orange cat weaving its way around her ankles. “Why, who’s this handsome man in our kitchen?”

Elliot flushed, waving.

“This is Elliot. He’s the real Jesus.”

“Is he now? A blessing on my head. Hey there.” She went for a hug, and then stopped. “Is a hug okay?”

Elliot liked her perfume. It smelled like blueberries. “Okay.”

She squeezed him briefly, before patting his back. “You boys have fun. Feed the cat, eat something healthy, and try not to get arrested. Yes, Leon, I know about the weed under the couch.”

Leon gaped at her, the tips of his ears turning red.

“Love you, bye!”

“Bye,” Elliot said, elbowing Leon in the ribs. Leon came back to himself.

“Drive safe!” he called.

Mama Leon slammed the door shut. The cat made a sad noise, scratching at the door.

“Oh, shut up. Alright.” Leon dug through his Target bag, which he pronounced Targé. “I got Cow Tails, Soda Caps, and Juicy Drop Pops. Party time.”

Elliot opened his bag, pulling out two frozen pizzas, a chicken caesar salad, and microwave french fries. And, of course, a copy of Back to the Future. You could never have too many.

Leon whistled at his pile. “Nice. Mama would approve. Hold on, is that pineapple on pizza?”

“...yeah?”

“Get out of my household.”

*

After arguing about pizza and the best nineties candy, Leon’s weird vapestick finally heated up and the pizza was in the oven.

“Dude.” Elliot coughed out some smoke. “Dude. Man. What are you doing?”

Leon was unrolling his Cow Tails and eating them in halves.

“You get more cream, cuz. Though I got all the sugar I need.” He kissed Elliot’s temple, stealing the vape.

“Hey. Uh.” Elliot blushed. “Yeah.”

The microwave dinged. Leon hoisted himself off the couch, still puffing on his vape. Elliot rifled through a box labeled “Leon’s Box of Treasures,” rolling a joint with the ease of an expert.

Leon tossed the steaming bag of fries between his hands, making little noises as he did so. He collapsed down on the couch, his head in Elliot’s lap and his legs hanging off the armrest. Elliot flushed, lighting the joint.

“So,” he said, after a puff. “Did you mean that?”

“Huh?” Leon had a couple fries in his mouth, making his cheeks bulge.

“Are we a couple?”

Leon froze, swallowing hard. “Uh.”

“Because - because I thought maybe you said that to get Carla to leave us alone. Or something,” Elliot said rapidly. The weed was supposed to help with his nerves. Whoops.

Leon kept staring up at him, a sleepy smile on his face. “Uh. I dunno. Do you wanna be?”

“Mm. Yeah.”

“Dope.”

Leon settled himself in Elliot’s lap, grabbing the remote to switch on the DVD player. Elliot stroked Leon’s hair, trying to keep his heart from racing.

“You really mean it?”

“Yeah, cuz,” Leon said, holding a fry up to Elliot’s mouth. “You’re cute as hell. Let’s be boyfriends.”

“Okay.” Elliot kissed the salt off Leon’s fingers. “Okay.”

*

The credits rolled. Leon and Elliot were now completely blazed, the empty bag of fries somewhere on the floor and a half-eaten pizza on the table.

“Wait.” Elliot hiccuped. “You like me?”

“Yuh-huh.”

“Really, though?”

“Yep.”

Elliot broke into a fit of giggles. “That’s pretty gay.”

“Yeah,” Leon said, and blew smoke in his face.

*

They moved on to The Music Man, then Seinfeld. Leon narrated the entire thing, interrupting himself with angry comments.

“What the fuck are they even doing? It makes no sense. Their actions are worthless within the cold vacuum of space. Fuckers.”

Elliot blinked, too high to respond. “Uh.”

“Seriously, cuz. Where’s the depth in dialogue? The stakes? Makes no sense.”

 _G-A-Y_ , Elliot signed. He prolonged the Y, shaking it back and forth. Leon copied him.

“Totally tubular, man. Where’d the pizza go?”

Elliot poked Leon’s stomach.

“Oh yeah.” Leon grabbed Elliot’s hand, kissing it. “Mm.”

Elliot flushed. _D-U-D-E_ , he signed against Leon’s lips. Leon nibbled on his finger, making tiny noises. His eyes were drifting shut.

Elliot sighed, grabbing a pillow from off the ground and snuggling up to Leon. They both drifted off, lulled to sleep by laugh tracks, Leon sucking on Elliot’s finger.

*

“Leon?”

Leon groaned.

“Wake up.” Elliot tapped his arm. “Leon?”

Leon made a little whimpering sound. Elliot flipped on the lightswitch.

“C’mon, man.”

Leon sat up, rubbing his eyes. “Huh?”

“You, uh. You fell asleep in your binder. You were coughing.”

“Oh.” Leon looked down at his shirt. “Whuh?”

Elliot walked back over to the bed, bending down to squeeze Leon into a gentle hug. “Wake up, man. You’re still asleep.”

Leon hummed, wincing. “My chest hurts. Did I -?”

“Yeah.”

There was an awkward silence.

“Do you want a glass of water? I’ll grab one while you change.” Elliot flushed. Leon nodded vigorously, grateful for the privacy.

“That sounds good, cuz.”

Elliot turned toward the kitchen, rubbing his hands over his face to stop himself from blushing.

“Cuz?”

Elliot turned back to him. “Uh?”

“How’d you know that was a bad idea?”

“Uh.” Elliot rubbed the back of his head. “I looked up how to be a good boyfriend to… to a trans guy.”

Leon burst out laughing. _“_ _Cuz._ You can just ask me. You don’t gotta sneak around online.”

“I just -” Elliot broke off. “I wanted to make sure I could. I dunno. I didn’t want to make you ask.” He shifted his weight from foot to foot, biting his lip.

Leon studied him. “Thanks, babe.”

“Uh-huh.” Elliot shuffled off to the kitchen, trying not to think about kissing Leon’s ribs.

*

When Elliot returned (water, hot cocoa, and Gatorade) Leon was in an oversized sweater, humming and rocking with a pillow. He laughed at Elliot, who was trying to juggle all three drinks.

“Covering all your bases, cuz?”

“Uh-huh.”

Leon took the Gatorade, and Elliot decided on the hot cocoa, leaving the water bottle on the night stand.

“Thanks for waking me up. I fell asleep with my contacts in, too. Pass me the case?”

Elliot blinked, tossing Leon a contact case shaped like… Pokémon?

“Darlene had those cards when she was a kid. She had a big binder. All the sparkly ones were in the back.”

“Darlene had holographic cards?” Leon shouted, dropping the case. “How many?”

“Uh. I dunno. Like, a page or two.”

“Jealous.” Leon squinted at his fingers, blinking rapidly. “Eugh. Contacts. Man, it’s always fun when an old SI pops up. Hand me my glasses case? Under the shelf, there.”

Elliot placed it on Leon’s tummy, falling beside him on the bed. Leon slipped them on. They were dorky, chunky glasses.

“Hot, right?”

“Uh-huh.” Elliot smiled, biting his lip. “What’s an SI?”

“Special interest?” Elliot blinked at him. “Uh. You know. Autism thing? Like, a thing that makes you stim?”

“I didn’t know there was a name for that,” Elliot whispered, lying on his side. It was way better than lying on his back. He could look at Leon, this way. Leon flopped back, a look of mock outrage on his face.

“My boy, you must become aware about the raddest part about being on the spectrum. Besides the inherent coolness factor, that is. Is there, like, a show or a book that makes you stim?”

Elliot chewed his lip. “A TV show?”

“Could be anything.”

“Um. I really like theatre.”

“Yeah?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Well, that might be a special interest. Mine’s space, and philosophy.”

“It can be a class?”

“Yeah, cuz. It’s whatever.”

“Maybe philosophy. Or cult classics.”

Leon snapped his fingers. “Back to the Future!”

Elliot grinned. “Definitely.”

“That’s the shit I’m talking about, cuz.” He snuggled up to Elliot, pressing him against his neck. Elliot blinked, suddenly feeling sleepy. “That’s the shit.”

*

“Cuz?”

“Uh?”

“Do you think plants have feelings?”

“Uh.”

“Does it come down to complex brain structure?”

“Uh.”

“Single-celled organisms move away from larger cells or avoid white blood cells in the human body. They don’t have complex brain structures.”

“Leon?”

“Yeah?”

“I think you’re sleepy.”

“Yeah. Goodnight, Elliot.”

“Goodnight, Leon.”

Leon rolled over, pressing his chest to Elliot’s back and wrapping his arms around Elliot’s waist. Elliot sighed, tipping his head back to expose his neck. Leon obliged, snuggling in close.

A few minutes passed.

“Hey, cuz?”

“Uh?”

“What can quantify emotion?”

“Uh.”

“Can it even be described as Quantitative vs. Qualitative?

“Mm. What about those edgy posters that are, like, ‘happiness’ and then a list of chemicals and shit?”

Leon hummed against Elliot’s neck. “Yeah. Do plants make those chemicals? They don’t have the nervous system or the brain function, but…” Leon yawned. Elliot squirmed.

Another few minutes passed.

“Hey, Leon?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I take off my shirt?”

“ _Hell yeah_.”

Elliot did his little laugh, all croaky and gruff. His voice was lower at night. It made Leon all tingly.

Elliot pulled off the shirt, throwing it somewhere to the left.

“Better?”

“Yeah.”

Leon tugged the weighted blanket over both of them. He hesitated.

“Can I touch you?”

“Please.”

Leon wrapped his arms around Elliot’s torso, marveling at his trim waist and frowning at the sharp jut of his ribs.

“Gotta fatten you up,” he mumbled into Elliot’s neck.

“Hm?”

“Nothing.”

Elliot nodded to himself. Leon rested his forehead against the back of Elliot’s neck, kissing his top vertebrae.

“Hey, Leon?”

Elliot’s voice came from somewhere far away.

“Mm?”

“Love you,” Elliot breathed.

“Mm.”


	10. Chapter 10

They were awoken at 8:15 AM by the iPhone’s soothing marimba alarm.

“Fuck.” Leon reached over for the phone, tapping it haphazardly. “Shh.”

Elliot blinked awake. “Mm?”

“Forgot to turn off my alarm. Go back to sleep.”

Elliot flushed. He had wriggled out of his jeans during his sleep. It didn’t embarrass him as much as it probably should. Leon made a pleased noise, snuggling up to him. He tapped Elliot’s thighs, questioning. Elliot nodded. Leon squeezed his hip, his other hand wandering down his leg. Elliot hummed, liking the pressure. Leon’s gentle touches made him sleepy. He snuggled back into the pillow.

The cat yowled.

“Shut up,” Leon whined, pressing his face into Elliot’s back.

The cat was quiet for a moment.

“Thank fuck.” 

She yowled again.

Elliot blinked. “Does she have breakfast?” 

Leon moaned, his tongue brushing Elliot’s skin. Elliot squeaked.

The cat had begun scratching at the door, making angry noises.

“God dammit.”

*

They walked into the theatre hand in hand that morning. Darlene, Angela, and Trenton nudged each other and grinned, all wearing expressions that quite plainly said  _ I told you so. _ Ollie looked significantly less happy to be in their presence. He sniffed as Leon passed him.

Elliot heard. He held an arm out to stop Leon and whirled back around, still holding his hand in a death grip.

“Got a problem, man?” he asked quietly, coldly.

“N-no - just - had a question for you - Leon, I had no idea you were a girl once.”

Leon squeezed Elliot's hand harder. His dark eyes were positively black. "Huh. I wasn't. Where'd that come from, weirdo?"

Ollie was trying frantically to backpedal, but it was too late. “I-I don't mean to offend, r-really,” he stammered. “I'm just, curious, you know?” He smiled in a way that was obviously meant as reconciliatory. If looks could kill, Ollie would be long gone. Trenton and Darlene had approached and were glaring daggers. Leon rolled his eyes, tugging Elliot along towards the chairs. Sure enough, Ollie followed.

“So like, what’s your real name? Is that - is that bad to ask? Between guys, y’know?”

Ollie sat down beside them. Elliot cringed, squeezing Leon’s hand. “I’m just… wow. I’ve never met one of you before.” Ollie laughed, loud and awkward. “Did you,” he leaned in close, whispering. “Did you get surgery? What’s, y’know. What’s in your pants?”

Leon turned to him, with one of his lazy smiles on his face. 

“You know,  _ friend, _ a lot has changed since I was born twenty-eight years ago. I no longer weigh six pounds, for instance. I no longer go by the name on my birth certificate, so Leon is my ‘real name’.” He smirked, looking at Elliot before continuing. “As for what’s in my pants, I never leave the house without a pocket knife for… emergencies. But I assume you mean genitalia?”

Ollie had at least sense enough this time to remain silent. But Leon was on a roll. “The only people who get to know about that are my doctor, my family, and my boyfriend -” Elliot flushed - “if he chooses to have sex with me at some point. You, Mr. Parker, are nowhere close to any of those things. I suggest you drop the matter. It's none of your fucking business.”

Leon turned back to his script, flipping through it. Ollie looked at Elliot with wide eyes.

“You’re together?”

“No shit, Sherlock!” Darlene yelled. Trenton covered her mouth with her hand, giggling. Darlene kissed her cheek, making Trenton laugh harder. Ollie pointed at them furiously.

“You too?”

“Duh.” Elliot snuggled up to Leon. 

“Since forever ago.”

Director Price collected his jaw off the floor. “This is hardly an appropriate conversation.”

“Mr. Parker was making his… fears known. It’s scary to find out such a  _ big _ secret about a castmate, hm?” White Rose said kindly. Ollie nodded, a grateful smile on his face. “God forbid one day you make such transphobic comments and realize you’d been under the artistic direction of a transgender woman.” She applied some plum lipstick, smirking at her reflection. “Such a fright!”

Ollie decided to sit quietly from that point on.

“More important than Leon and I’s genitalia, what on Earth are you doing at the theatre? I said we didn’t have a rehearsal.”

“What are you doing at the theatre?” 

Phillip scoffed. “Preparing.”

“Same with our sorry asses. Look.” Leon tugged Elliot into his lap, ignoring Phillip’s scandalized expression. “We aren’t gonna rehearse. We’re just gonna hang out here. I’m too antsy to be anywhere else.”

“Same here,” Angela said.

“Me too,” Joanna said. Tyrell was staring at Leon. Leon winked at him. “We could go out to eat, if we’re in your way…”

White Rose sighed, glancing at Phillip. “I’ll go insane if it’s just him for company. What the hell. Lunch, anyone?”

“I’m too anxious to eat,” Elliot said, chewing on the string of Leon’s jacket. 

“You’re not even performing,” Leon said, flicking his nose. 

“Still.”

“I can’t eat, either,” Angela said, raising a shaky hand. She didn’t look so well. Elliot remembered her throwing up on the opening night of The Addams Family. “Movie?”

“Manicure,” White Rose said, looking at her nails thoughtfully.

“Massages?” Cisco asked, clambering down from the catwalk.

“Jesus!” Romero exclaimed, having just entered the theatre and narrowly avoided Cisco’s feet. “I want a pony.”

Phillip raised both of his hands. “I’ll be having lunch with the assistant-editor of Playbill magazine. I was hoping Ollie and Angela might join me.”

Showing off the cute, white leads. Right. Leon glared at him. Angela didn’t look too happy.

“Let’s split up. Those who want to stay in the theatre, go for it. Don’t annoy the ushers or cleaners, and stay in the backstage area. I’m getting a manicure.” With that, White Rose exited, grabbing Romero’s sleeve as she went. Leon briefly considered being jealous about his role as second-in-command being replaced. Elliot yawned in his lap, his face scrunching up all cute and shit. 

_ Nah.  _ Leon thought.  _ Life’s good. _

_ * _

Leon, Angela, Trenton, and Darlene found themselves cuddled up in the costume shed. Elliot had very quietly asked Leon to carry him there, and had fallen asleep. He was snuggled up with Leon. Darlene thought that was an incredible idea, and sprawled out over everyone.

“Opening night.”

“Shit.”

“Can you believe we even made it?” Angela whispered, careful not to wake Elliot.

“Nope,” Darlene said, at full volume. “I thought we’d have crashed and burned by now. Still. Here we are.”

“Here we are.” Trenton yawned. “Elliot has the right idea.” 

“Yeah,” Leon said dreamily. He kissed Elliot’s nose before laying his head on Elliot’s chest, feeling the rise and fall of his breath. “Mm.”

“Don’t you fall asleep on me, big man. I’ve got shit to talk about the tech crew.”

“Do tell,” Angela said, scooting closer to her.

Elliot twitched in his sleep. Leon kissed his hand. 

“I’m gonna take a nap. Goodnight, y’all.”

Darlene sighed. “Goodnight, assholes. I’ll wake you up before call.”

Anxiety coiled in Leon’s stomach. “Shit. It’s really happening, fam.”

“We’re gonna be great,” Trenton said sleepily. “Sh.”

Leon squeezed his eyes shut. Fuck. He was gonna mess up onstage. He was gonna mess up, and everyone was gonna see, and White Rose would be  _ so  _ disappointed -

Elliot turned over in his sleep, pressing his mouth against Leon’s cheek and tossing an arm across Leon’s belly.

Leon blinked. 

Yeah. Okay.

*

Someone was shaking Elliot’s shoulder.

Elliot woke up, his mouth dry. He looked around, confused. It was dark outside. Leon had folded his jacket under Elliot’s head. He snuggled back into it.

That shaking, again. “Yo, man. Wake up.”

Elliot turned to Cisco.

“Huh?”

“Ollie’s out for the night. You’re up.”

*

Elliot wasn't sure if he was having a panic attack or a meltdown, but either way he was flapping his hands hysterically and whining from the back of his throat. Some of the ensemble stared as they passed by. Who cares. He needed - someone. White Rose, Angela, even Romero. Even -

“Dude, you okay?”

Darlene. Elliot shook his head, flapping harder. For once she was careful not to speak too loudly or make eye contact. Thank God she knew how to fingerspell. His throat was blocked up.

“What can I do to help you, Elliot?”

_ L-E-O-N _

“Get Leon?”

_ Y-E-S Y-E-S. _ He nodded frantically.

“Okay, kid. You stay put. I’ll be right back.”

Elliot closed his eyes tight, wondering how bad he would look on stage with tear tracks already on his face -

Hands. Dark, blissfully cool hands very gently thumbing his face dry, fingering through his hair like one would the pages of a very old, very fragile book. Elliot rested the crown of his head against Leon's collarbone and breathed him in, out while he talked in a low voice. It was nice. “You’re gonna be fantastic, baby, I promise. Even if things screw up, we're all here and we all care about you a lot.” Breathe in, out, in until Leon was cued onstage. He let go reluctantly, planting a quick kiss on Elliot’s lips. “I love you so much.” Elliot felt a warm peace settling within him.

“I’ll be back,” Leon whispered, stepping into the light.

_ Let me take it from here, kiddo. _

Elliot took a deep breath, already fading to black.  _ Okay. _

And then -

*

Elliot blinked awake. The stage lights were harsh against his eyes. He heard gasps in the audience.

More importantly, he felt Leon’s lips on his. No. Judas.

Leon gasped against his mouth, his hands on Elliot’s ribs. He fell to his knees with a sob, clutching at Elliot’s legs. 

Oh. Yeah. Show.

“Judas, must you betray me,” He put a finger under Leon’s chin, forcing him to look up. “With a kiss?”

Leon nearly grinned, hiding it against Elliot’s hip. 

_ C’mon kid. Back to work. _

*

Watching Elliot onstage was like watching a fucking  _ bonfire.  _ Darlene was torn between fierce pride and terror. The audience was equally enthralled; reviewers abandoning their notepads to stare at the stage, folks sighing when Elliot exited and perking up when he entered.

“That’s my brother,” Darlene whispered. Cisco shrugged. 

“Is he alright? Romero says he’s like a zombie offstage. Doesn’t react to anything.”

“He gets like that during a show. Light 450, go.”

Cisco nodded, casting the theatre in deep blues and purples. Some of the reviewers made thoughtful noises, jotting down notes.

“Gotcha.”

*

“...I’m thirsty.” Elliot rasped from onstage.

Leon felt tears welling behind his eyes. Some of the other actors had their hands over their mouths, stifling coughs and sobs. He had just been chained to the barbed wire fence, alarmingly close to the edge of the stage. So close, in fact, that the stage lights illuminated the faces of the first few rows, all weeping or cringing.

“Lord, I’m  _ thirsty! _ ” Elliot cried. Leon bit back a wail.

One more song. Almost there. Angela nudged him, as Elliot took a gasping breath, and the lights went out.

*

Elliot woke to the sound of roaring applause. He was still on the damn fence, the stage entirely black. The cast filed onstage silently, and someone unhooked Elliot’s wrists.

He stood, a bit shaky. Leon grabbed his hand in the dark.

Elliot nodded to Cisco. He held up his hand, cuing the lights. 

Oh God. This was awkward. The theatre was  _ loud,  _ clapping and crying. Shit. Did Elliot smile? Look holy? 

Leon tugged his wrist, and the company bowed. And up - and bow. 

Elliot caught Leon’s eye, laughing breathlessly. Leon gave him a quick peck on the temple, before pushing him forward.

Oh, fuck. A couple audience members stood, and the company joined in the applause. Elliot took an awkward bow. When he came up, the entire theatre was on its feet. 

“Am I done now?” Elliot said out of the corner of his mouth. Leon laughed, barely audible over the roar of the crowd. 

“Yep, cuz. We’re done.”

*

Leon carried Elliot through the theatre, howling with laughter. Darlene was pissed as all hell.

“I can’t get your damn mic!” She ripped off Leon’s tape with a heavy hand. “The two of you.”

“We’re cute,” Elliot said, muffled in Leon’s shoulder.

“And stars!”

“Still assholes. Shoo. Go greet your adoring fans.”

*

A quick costume change, and they were walking down the hall towards the stage door, grinning.

“Cuz?”

“Uh-huh?”

“You were incredible.”

Elliot flushed. “You were okay.”

Leon gave him a light shove, pinning him against the wall with a breathless smile. “Cuz.”

“Leon.”

Leon traced a thumb lightly over Elliot's bottom lip, asking. Elliot nodded enthusiastically and slotted their mouths together, grateful to the wall for supporting him over suddenly weak knees. He closed his eyes and made appreciative noises. Leon was bending down to press a kiss to each of Elliot's hips, stomach, ribs, slowly trailing back up to his jaw. Elliot swore he could hear someone whistling at them as Leon captured his lips again, biting softly. “You were amazing,” he said between uneven breaths, “you were perfect, no pun intended, but Jesus fucking Christ, Elliot. I love you so much,” another kiss, “so much.”   
Elliot smiled against Leon's lips, pushing their foreheads together. “Me too.”

*

The stage door was mobbed, unfortunately. Maybe Leon shouldn’t have carried Elliot out. Whoops.

Carla laughed, snapping pics on her phone. Krista looked as though the secrets of the universe had been unlocked before her very eyes. 

Elliot snuggled into Leon’s neck. “Can we go home?”

Leon’s heart melted. He had a feeling he’d  never be able to say no to that smile.

“Yeah. Well. We could go to the cast party…”

“Nah.”

“My house is gonna be packed. Half my family came to see the show.”

“S’okay.”

“Scratch that. My whole family came to see the show. Oh, God.” A thought struck him. “My  _ brother  _ came to see the show. Avoid him at all costs.”

“Elliot!” Someone was yelling. “Is that you? Elliot!” 

Leon paled. “Yo, cuz? You’re not gonna believe this. Is cloning ethical?”

A short kid in a bright purple waistcoat broke through the crowd, waving frantically. 

“Oh. Hi, Kenny.”

Leon set Elliot down, his arm still firm around his waist. Kenny was flapping his hands, a huge smile on his face.

“I didn’t know you were in this show!” The imposter said, with a cute little lisp.

“I didn’t know either.”

“Aw. Can I hug you?”

Elliot shook his head.

“Quick theatrical kisses?”

Elliot shrugged. Kenny gave him two quick pecks on either cheek. 

“Showstopping. Who’s this?”

“Uh. This is my boy,” Elliot said, pointing awkwardly. Leon beamed. “I don’t wanna be here, so we’re gonna leave. S’too loud.”

The crowd laughed, making Elliot jump. 

Kenny smiled, waving. “Okay. Bye, now! Tell Darlene I said hi!”

“Uh-huh.”

Kenny vanished into the crowd. Mama Leon took his place, dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief.

“Ready to go, baby?”

“Yes, Mama. Can Elliot come?”

“Why, of course. We have room in the car, don’t we?”

A man who Elliot could only guess was Leon’s brother appeared at her shoulder. He looked exactly like Leon, only a little more… dressed up? He was wearing brand names from head to toe, his jacket unbuttoned to show his muscles. He signed at Leon and Mama Leon, a smirk on his face.

Leon signed back in sharp movements, snarling. 

Elliot blinked. He only knew the alphabet. 

_ A-B-C? _ he spelled slowly. The brother gave him a thumbs up, a wide smile on his face.

“Elliot, this is Joey. Joey, Elliot.”

Joey blew him a kiss.

“What did he say to get you all mad?”

Leon glared at Joey. “Said you could sit on his lap.”

“Oh.”

N-O, T-Y. 

Joey shrugged, ushering them to the car. 

“He’s very handsome.”

“Nope,” Leon said, scooping him up in his arms. Elliot laughed, loud and jarring. 

“We’re good?”

“Yeah, cuz.” Leon kissed his nose. “Always.”


	11. Epilogue

Like many others who attended the preview performance for Phillip Price’s Jesus Christ Superstar, I was impressed by the actors’ chemistry onstage: the energy in Caiaphas' interaction with his council, the asides of King Herod to his court, the easy control Simon had over her (!) followers. Like many others, I was disappointed at the one relationship that mattered - that of Judas and Jesus.

 

It isn’t that Ollie Parker and Leon [last name pending] don’t have chemistry. In my interview with the cast (A Moment with the Followers of Christ), sparks certainly flew between the two actors.

However, the passion of their… disagreements simply did not transition well to the stage, falling flat or seeming painfully awkward.

 

When the announcement came over the Jewel Box Theatre’s speakers that Ollie Parker would not be performing, I was taken aback. Some in the audience were disappointed. After all, Playbill’s interview with Mr. Parker and Mr. Price revealed a charming (if a bit overeager) actor, of whom Phillip Price was excited to showcase. Some were probably disappointed when the announcement was made that an unknown understudy would be replacing Erin Dilly in Thoroughly Modern Millie.

 

Like Sutton Foster, Elliot Alderson entirely captivated my attention. His magnetism on and offstage is undeniable, even after confiding in me that he doesn’t like to talk. Whatever his preference, he was a firecracker onstage. Though he appeared shaky and frail at first (drowned in a beautiful handmade leather jacket by Leslie Romero, another standout performer), he possessed enough energy and raw _volume_ to carry the entire cast. His shy, emotional interpretation of Jesus played perfectly with a more sexual and aggressive interpretation of Judas. The relationship I was so dreading was suddenly the best part of the show. I looked forward to every moment the (dare I presume) couple was on stage, whether they were kissing, fighting, or exchanging wordless glances across the stage.

 

Judas and Jesus stole the show for me, though the entire cast was brilliant. Angela Moss _(Sweeney Todd, Little Shop of Horrors)_ brought depth and grace to the role of Mary, and the famous Scott Knowles _(Man of La Mancha, Les Mis)_ was as charming as ever. The brilliant artistic direction of the ever mysterious White Rose (featured in my blog post _Five Artistic Directors Worth Their Weight in Sequins_ ) made the cast shine, and shine they did.

 

In all, I encourage anyone with a great love of theatre to see the show (especially if Elliot Alderson is performing). In my opinion, the cast represents not only the greatest new talent in the business, but the diversity of the Broadway community so often overlooked or unacknowledged, with both leads being queer, autistic men of color whose identities are neither stereotyped or extinguished. Points to Leslie Romero and White Rose for having Judas wear a binder onstage, as natural as any actor wearing an undershirt!

 

I wish Ollie Parker a speedy recovery from his unfortunate leg injury - though not too speedy.

 

Peace and Love,

Hot Carla


End file.
